


Stardust : Book II

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Non-canonical to good purpose, Characters - Family Dynamics, Characters - Outstanding OC(s), Characters - Unusual relationship(s), Characters - Well-handled emotions, Characters - Well-handled romance/eroticism, Drama, Plot - Can't stop reading, Post-War of the Ring, Subjects - Culture(s), Subjects - Geography, Subjects - Plants/Environment, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Good use of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2002-12-09
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3767621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ripples, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

****

Ripples, Part 1

  


She could not say what it was that made her set aside her widow's weeds that day, for it was as any other day. She stepped out on the balcony in the early morn to look toward the rising sun, and suddenly she never wanted to wear dark clothing again for the rest of her life. It may have been a delayed reaction to her son's departing words. Hirgilron had looked at her with his clear eyes before he left for Culumaldas, and said that he hoped he would find home a brighter place when he returned. Or it may have been the sound of a singing bird, reminding her that it was spring again, and that life in Ithilien was renewing itself. Or just the luxuriant feeling as she stretched out the night's kinks, her arms over her head and her back arched, for it seemed a long time since she felt any physical pleasure, even one so simple as this.

  


There were no gulls, although they were not uncommon visitors to these lands. If there had been then she might have decided later that she had been sent a sign. But there were no signs.

  


When she came into the great hall to take breakfast with her two youngest children, they looked on her pale dress with surprise, and Einda wondered aloud if this meant they could start having people over again. By "people" she meant Hiranion's youngest son Hiraldon, for Einda was much smitten with his polite ways and was forever telling both her brothers that they would never be gentlemen if they didn't act more like him. Eimar would scowl and call her names. Hirgilron usually remarked her brothers might not qualify as gentlemen, but then **ladies** didn't ride horses as if orcs still roamed the land and were in hot pursuit. That would bring the comparisons to a close for Einda was not about to be ladylike on a horse. 

  


Her youngest children never believed her when Terisda told them there was little to choose between an orc and their cousin when he had been a child, even though Hirgilron had his own horror stories of childhood traumas involving Hiraldon that made orcs seem far more preferable company. Indeed, it was hard to reconcile the memories of the brat Hiraldon had been with the solemn young man he had grown into, for he was as immersed in commerce as his father. On his last visit there had been sharp words between Hirgilron and Hiraldon over the commercial value of the estate's lush trees that brought back memories of similar arguments between Hiranion and Hirgon. She had remarked as much to Einar. Her husband had laughed and said it was just as well that the boy cared more for trees than for anything else as there were more trees than anything else on his lands. 

  


A week after Hiraldon left in a huff Einar was tardy returning from his morning rounds of the estate. This did not much concern Terisda, for the entire reason for such rounds was to deal with difficulties that might arise, and dealing with those difficulties could well account for most of the morning. But then Einar did not show up for the noon meal. Rather put out, Terisda had sent the servants to remind him that there were other things in life besides his beloved horses and one of those things was lunch with his wife and children. They were not going to hold the meal for him much longer. 

  


When the servants returned from their search she looked upon their faces and knew, for she had seen that same expression on too many faces after the battle of the Fields.

  


"Mama, you aren't listening to me."

  


Einda had that petulant note in her voice again. Terisda shook herself from her reverie and regarded her daughter with a touch of wariness. Einda was behaving most erratically these days, one moment all happiness, the next all tears. The governess assured Terisda that it was normal for a child of Einda's age to have many such conflicting emotions, but Terisda could not recall that Hirgilron exhibited any like extremes during his childhood, and so remained concerned. This amused the governess, although her response was a polite-enough comment that the young Lord had been a very unusual child indeed. "I heard you, daughter. I will send a letter to Hiranion and let him know we are receiving visitors again. It is no easy matter for him or his sons to come here, for it is a great distance from Anfalas and they must make sure all of their businesses are cared for in their absence."

  
  


"I'm not interested in Uncle. Just send for Hiraldon. I miss him."

  
  


If anything Terisda's alarm grew. Einar had remarked after that last visit that the two would make a good match, and laughed at the expression the comment brought to Terisda's face. "It's not uncommon among my people for a woman to be betrothed at her age, and married a year or two later." When Terisda protested that, among **her** people, a woman was usually a decade older before even considering a betrothal, Einar's reply was rather sharp. "Not everyone in Middle Earth has the luxury of time that a noble of Gondor enjoys."

  


Terisda was silent after that, for he had spoken a truth that she had only recently begun to acknowledge. She had been shocked on her last visit to the King's court when she beheld Eowyn and realized that time laid a far heavier hand on her than it had on Faramir. It had forced Terisda to look at her own husband with unshuttered eyes, to see lines on his face and sags to his frame that she would not expect on a Man of her own country until they were at least half century older than Einar. But the Rohirrim had no Elvish ancestor, not even a distant one, to dilute the effects of time and travail on the features. Einar's comment made Terisda consider, for the first time, that while her two youngest children would most likely out-live their father, **she** might well out-live **them.**

  
  


The conversation ended there, for as ever Terisda was inclined to ignore things she did not like to deal with. Einar had regarded her with that wry half-smile of his and warned her that it was not a discussion that could put off forever, or even for much longer giving Einda's increasing maturation and her unique position of being a landed noblewoman, but beyond that one sardonic rejoinder he permitted it to drop for the moment. What neither of them could know was that Einar's own remaining time was very short indeed. The subject of Einda's infatuation with her cousin was not broached again before Einar's death.

  
****

"Mama!"

  


Again Terisda's memories were cut short, and this time she perceived that she had missed something that was, evidently, very important to Einda. Her daughter's eyes were suddenly bright with brimming tears, and her cheeks were red. "Oh, someone wants a beau," said Eimar in a sing-song voice, before adding maliciously, "I should write Hiraldon and warn him of the trap that awaits him here, shouldn't I? He'll run screaming to the Halflings' lands and beyond, I'm sure. He might even join up with the Elves to take ship at the Grey Havens."

  


"Be quiet, you orc offal!"

  


"That's enough, both of you," said Terisda sharply. "Einda, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to think that I **wouldn't** invite Hiraldon. Of course I will. Once word gets out that we're no longer in mourning I'm sure that we'll be over-run with visitors. However, I don't want to hear language like that out of you again."

  


Eimar snorted. "Oh, you think **that's** language? You should hear her when--"

  


Terisda cut him off. "And **you.** Tease your sister like that again and I **will** send you to the Rohirrim instead of Minas Tirith when it's time for you to squire. You aren't a noble in the land of the Riders, Eimar; you might find your treatment very different than what you would get at the King's court."

  


Eimar looked equal parts sullen and interested, but he subsided for the moment and the meal progressed in relative calm, although more than one fraught glance was shared between the siblings. One of the reasons for dining in the great hall rather than the private quarters was that the public forum forced the children into a certain amount of decorum even when no guests were present. Terisda had no doubt that there would be more hot words exchanged between the two when they thought they were less likely to be observed, for she well remembered similar spats between her brother and herself at near the same age. 

  


Her major domo came into the hall near the end of the meal, appearing a bit flustered. Sighing, Terisda put down her napkin and prepared to hear some piece of news related to the management of one of the estates, but what he said was, "There is an Elf lord here, milady, with a companion, who wishes to speak with you. Shall I show them in?"

  


Terisda was mildly surprised that he bothered to ask. It was either Elrohir or Elladan, of course; the twins had become regular visitors over the years, first arriving shortly after Hirgilron's birth claiming that they had been hunting orcs in the area and needed a place to rest, last appearing for Einar's wake. It was unusual for one to come without the other, but Elrohir had occasionally made the journey without his brother. "Of course," she said. "Elves are always welcome in this hall." She smiled at her daughter. "Our first visitors already! I told you we would soon be over-run."

  


"Perhaps they found orcs in the area," suggested Eimar, eyes shining. "They are always hunting orcs, aren't they?"

  


"The Elf lords, along with your father and twoscore others, eliminated the last band in Ithilien twenty years ago," Terisda reminded him, a little dryly. "Lord Elrohir and Lord Elladan have to go much further afield than our homeland to find orcs these days."

  


Eimar appeared very disappointed. "Everything's so boring here now," he sulked. "There aren't any adventures at all anymore."

  


"I have heard tell," remarked a silver-toned voice, "that adventures never really end. They can be subtle things, however. One may not realize one was even in an adventure until many years later. It would behoove you to keep your eyes wide open, young lord, lest an adventure sweep past you and leave you all unknowing in its wake."

  


Einda let out a tiny little squeal of excitement as she gazed at the two newcomers, but hastily recollected that she was a grown-up lady now and demurely dropped her gaze. Eimar was not quite to the age where politeness overruled his curiosity, however, and his stare was frank and assessing. 

  


Slowly Terisda turned her head, knowing without question who was standing in her hall, but hoping beyond hope that she was wrong. She could hardly say she never thought of him, but such thoughts had become more and more rare over the years, time giving her memories a wraith-like quality until she could almost believe he was a fever-dream concocted by her strange emotional state in the weeks after the death of her first husband. But as she met the clear-eyed gaze for the first time in three decades the haze enshrouding her memories fell away. She suddenly felt as if the intervening years had been the dream, and she was only now wide awake and aware.

  


Mostly, though, she was grateful with a painful intensity that her eldest son was at Culumaldas rather than here to meet with these unexpected guests.


	2. Ripples, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

Ripples, Part 2

  
  


He stood at his ease in the stone hall, a place where Terisda had never once envisioned him, his great bow held cross-armed to his chest, his head tilted slightly to one side as his eyes remained steady on hers. He looked very much as he had the first time she saw him in the streets of Minas Tirith, except that there were no gulls that vied for his attention. For one of the few times in her life Terisda would have welcomed gulls, especially if they diverted his gaze long enough for her to gather her wits about her. 

  
  


As if from a distance, she heard the voice of her son. "That's a very short Elf," Eimar observed. "And a very hairy one, too."

  
  
__

What? Terisda's gaze dropped to include the dwarf that was regarding her sardonically, and she came back to an awareness of where she was and what she was doing, which was blankly staring at Legolas without regard for any other in the room. She snapped her jaw shut and shushed Eimar, hastily standing up and desperately searching in her mind for the name of Legolas's companion. Had she ever been introduced to him? She did not think so. She settled for quickly presenting her children, and keeping her words to the newcomers as non-specific as possible. "My lords, we are honored by your presence. What brings you so far from your own homelands?" _Too blunt,_ she thought immediately, but a small smile creased Legolas' cheek and she saw he took no offense.

  
  


"We Elves need little excuse to visit lands rich with trees, my lady," Legolas replied with a half-bow. "A Dwarf, however, needs be pulled from his rocks by a King's command, and so it is with my friend Gimli here."

  
  


The Dwarf snorted, then also bowed to Terisda, as he shot a darkling glare toward her youngest son. "Perhaps my folk should get out more, if the young master doesn't know a Dwarf when he sees one! Our people have been surveying portions of Gondor and Rohan over the years, each according to their own strengths," he said. "I stay mostly in Erebor to oversee the work in the Glittering Caves while Legolas and his kin haunt the forests of South Ithilien, but every few years it is as if a wanderlust overcomes this one, and nothing will do but that I must desert my duties and come with him on the road, lest his fey nature land him in more difficulties than he can extricate himself from."

  
  


"And the report that there may be mithril in the mountains south of Dagorlad had nothing to do with your willingness to accompany me on this trek," said Legolas mildly.

  
  


"'Tis fool's silver, no doubt," grumbled the Dwarf. "In any case, the King has taken an interest in the renewal of lands once covered by the Dark, and has charged us both to document changes in plant and rock during the journey. This area being under your protection, Legolas felt we could not proceed further without making our designs known to you."

  
  


"I also wished to see the great red-barked culumaldas trees again, which I first viewed after the defeat of the Enemy," added Legolas. "They are found no place else in Middle Earth save your lands, however, and I could not travel there without your permission. So I stand before you as a humble supplicant."

  
  


"Any charge you have from the King outweighs all other considerations," replied Terisda automatically, trying to covertly observe the Elf to discern if she could espy any hidden designs in his words or expressions.

  
  


"Almost," murmured Legolas. The Dwarf shot him a sideways glance from under his bushy brows.

  
  


"You may travel freely on my lands, lord. However, this area is no longer under my stewardship. Where you now stand are my son Hirgilron's lands rather than my own, and he has had full charge of them since obtaining his majority." There was no flicker in Legolas' fair face to indicate any particular interest at the mention of her son, but it had ever been difficult for her to discern his moods. "I do not know if you need to meet with him," she added diffidently, all the while studying his face intently to see if a more direct statement might indicate if he had some hidden purpose here, "but he is in Culumaldas now, overseeing the reconstruction of my family's estate. He will return in a week or so." Still nothing apart from polite attention. "There are none that know the ways of the local trees better than he, however. He would be an excellent guide for you, should you need such."

  
  


"I can show them around," protested Einda, sneaking another fascinated peek at Legolas.

  
  


"All you know are horses," Eimar sneered, his own gaze locked onto Gimli with just as much fascination. "Hirgilron tries to tell you about the trees, but you never listen."

  
  


"Oh, and you know so much?"

  
  


"I know their names. That's more than **you** know."

  
  


"Eimar," warned Terisda. "If I send you to Rohan, you'll learn a lot more about horses than you **ever** wanted to know."

  
  


Again Eimar looked rather intrigued at the idea, but he did not push the issue. Instead he offered an apology to their guests for his sharp words. Terisda was hard-put to cover her astonishment at this show of manners, but neither of the visitors appeared distressed by the sparring between the siblings. "Gimli can tell you a great deal about the horses of the Riders, young master," said Legolas cheerfully. "Before you earn banishment to Rohan you might want to let him bend your ear a little."

  
  


Gimli grunted. "Well, the **best** thing about Rohan is that the trees are few and far between. It limits the number of Elves one must deal with."

  
  


Eimar grinned his appreciation of the gibe and Terisda could tell much of her hard work trying to instill appropriate behavior in her youngest child had just been undermined. "Don't make me threaten you two with banishment as well," she said dryly. Her unexpected guests promptly offered their own apologies, the Drawf's words sounding very much like a gruff echo of her son's. "If all concerned promise to be on their best behavior, I think we'll muddle along well enough. **Do** you need guides?" she asked Legolas. "There are woodsmen among our retainers who could show you the way."

  
  


"We have been to Dagorlad before, although the path was different," replied Legolas. "We are not looking to go directly there. As Gimli says, we are charged with surveying rock and plant, and none of our folk have been this far north since the War."

  
  


Terisda saw where his conversation was going, and tried to head him off with a slightly acerbic observation. "You are not the first Elf to travel this way, nor even the first Elf lord."

  
  


"Although they would no doubt take issue with me on this, Elrohir and Elladan do not count," Legolas responded. "The King has oft been vexed by his foster brothers' lack of interest in this matter, although they are beyond doubt the best traveled of all Elves remaining in Middle Earth. If you wish to know the numbers of orcs that ever have or ever will exist in any given area, they are the best source. For any more practical information, however, he must rely on other messengers."

  
  


His gaze was full of expectation. Acknowledging that she had been outmaneuvered, Terisda offered the two the run of her hall for the duration of their survey, just managing to disguise any outward sign of the vexation she felt. She was sure that her children were distracted enough by the newcomers not to note her lack of enthusiasm, but she was equally sure that the Elf was perfectly aware of her insincerity. Whether it amused or irritated him, she could not say. Even during their time together her ability to gage his emotions had been little more than calculated guesswork. With their last meeting decades in the past her ability to read him now was nonexistent.

  
  


Gimli appeared to be studying Legolas for his reactions as least as intently as Terisda herself, and far more obviously, his bushy brows drawn down so far over his nose that his eyes were all but obscured. "We will not take much up much of your time or space," promised the Dwarf when it appeared the Elf had nothing to say to Terisda's offer.

  
  


"Not much space, in any case," murmured the Elf. "Time ... well, who can say?"

  
  


\---------------------

  
  


Terisda knew that any hope of her children settling down to finish their meal was a foolish one. Their home in North Ithilien was isolated as it was, and with the enforced privacy that came with official mourning the two were over-excited at the prospect of new faces. However, she could keep them from immediately badgering their guests. Terisda sent them to the governess, hoping that lady would not pack her bags on the spot when faced with the two's excessive high spirits. Both protested vehemently that they were perfectly capable of helping the newcomers settle in, but their mother's quelling stare was enough to cow even Einda into temporary obedience, and the two went to their lessons in sullen compliance. 

  
  


Their absence did nothing to loosen Legolas' tongue. The Elf tagged along silently behind Terisda and the major domo as the two showed off the hall, both pointing out areas that had been rebuilt after the War of the Ring. Gimli was complementary while examining the new stonework which, while it could not compare to Dwarven work, he declared was well enough by the standards of Man. Legolas' own gaze frequently strayed out the nearest window. "Nay, I have had enough time indoors already," he said when he was offered a room near that of Gimli's. "You have many trees here that will suit well enough for an Elf of my ilk, lady."

  
  


His insistence on addressing her formally only added to Terisda's sense of unreality about his presence. Her conviction that she was in a strange waking dream heightened when he lightly leapt to the stone sill of an opened window and vanished through it. The major domo gasped out loud, for they were not so close to the ground for it to be an easy drop, but Gimli just shrugged his broad shoulders and claimed that one got used to Elves doing that after a decade or two. Terisda stared at where Legolas disappeared for perhaps too long a moment, for when she turned she found the Dwarf's eyes on her, and his gaze was as unfathomable as any she had ever been subjected to from Legolas. 

  
  


The children were much disappointed at the absence of their guests from the noontime meal, but Gimli, his beard freshly combed and lacking the helm that added greatly to his height, presented himself for supper and endured her offspring's peppering with what Terisda supposed was as good a grace as one could expect from a Dwarf. She had heard much about their abrupt mannerisms, and while Gimli was sometimes a little gruff, and occasionally would answer through a full mouth, his bearing was no worse than many a lord of Minas Tirith, and his tales were far more interesting. Eimar at some point realized this Gimli was the same Gimli who had been one of the Companions of the Ringbearer, and the boy had many queries concerning the demarcation of truth between the ballads he had heard and the reality Gimli had lived through. The Dwarf found this a very sensible line of questioning, for the poetic exaggeration of bards was a sore point with him, and responded with candid and unembellished accounts -- "setting all straight," as he said. So the evening passed pleasantly enough that none appeared to miss Legolas, and if Terisda's gaze strayed too often to the many doors that led into the hall, no one remarked on it and only Gimli's shrewd eyes ever followed hers.

  
  


She experienced no little difficulty in convincing Einda and Eimar that sleep was a necessity that eve, but Gimli helped her there by giving an elaborate pantomime of weariness that, given the legendary constitution of Dwarves, she was sure was completely fabricated for her own convenience. He was still sitting in the hall when she returned, and she looked upon him a bit warily as she wondered if he had deliberately waited to get her alone, but he simply stood and thanked her for the meal, and made his own way out. 

  
  


Left to herself, Terisda nervously turned about the hall a few times before she could even admit to herself that she was awaiting Legolas. Once she did, she became equal parts irritated with her uncertainty and with the Elf that induced it. Her mind had been mulling over the strange situation even as she played the dutiful hostess, and it now insisted there had to be more than just what the Elf claimed, for the more she dwelt upon it, the odder it seemed to her that one who was a lord among the Elves and a ruler of his own lands would be sent on a simple surveying mission. It might be as the Dwarf said, that this was an excuse for Legolas to exorcise his wanderlust, but Terisda's upbringing among the dangers of Ithlien did not gift her with the most trusting of natures, and her ill-defined suspicions were making her edgy.

  
  


Whatever Legolas' purpose, it was evidently not to be revealed to her in the main hall. She supposed that made a certain amount of sense; it was a public place even at night, and speaking here might well bring some of the night guards to interrupt their conversation. This was reinforced as she left the hall, for her major domo was just outside the entrance with several questions he felt needed to be dealt with before the next day, and thus it was quite late indeed before Terisda could retire to her own suite.

  
  


Terisda went at once into the bedchamber thinking that all she wished was sleep, but hardly had she crossed the threshold before she halted and gazed about the room with wide eyes. She had lain with two husbands in this room, borne her children here. Just a few months previous she had sat rigid in the straight-backed chair by the great bed, gripping Einar's hand during his final hours. Even though she was sure his body was broken in such ways that he could not feel her touch, his eyes told her he was grateful for her presence, and she had held his gaze until the light within them dimmed forever. 

  
  


She was shaken by the sensation that the spirits of both her husbands lurked too strongly within these walls, and she knew it to be the wrong place for any private discourse Legolas might wish to hold with her.

  
  


Backing slowly away almost as if there were that within the bedchamber that needed careful watching, Terisda stood uncertain in the antechamber. There was a sitting room off to one side, and a smaller room that Einar had used as a dressing closet to the other, but the latter had no window and the window in the former was small indeed. The antechamber itself was not remarkable except that it opened to the balcony that ran along several rooms on this side of the manor, although the great gnarled oak tree that grew nearby overhung it in such a way that all views had to be filtered through its small, shiny leaves. And so, thought Terisda dryly, although it surely was not the intent of the architect, it appeared that the main advantage of the antechamber was that it offered an excellent entrance for any tree-climbing Elf that might desire to drop in for a visit.

  
  


She cautiously ventured back into the bedchamber, her over-sensitive imagination making the gooseflesh rise on her arms for no discernable reason, and wrestled the straight-back chair from its usual spot, through the narrow door, and into the center of the outer chamber. She seated herself primly upon its hard seat, staring at the doubled door that led to the balcony with a steady gaze. 

  
  


Long minutes passed with no indication that any without sought to enter. The time stretched, and Terisda began to wonder if she were, indeed, just being tricked by her own distrustful nature. Then a thread of a memory wove through her mind. _Of course,_ she thought to herself, one corner of her mouth ticking up briefly. Terisda folded her hands in her lap, dropped her gaze to them, and counted slowly to twenty. 

  
  


When she raised her eyes again, Legolas was standing just inside the door.


	3. Ripples, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

  
  
****

Ripples, Part 3

  
  


\------------------

  
  


It had not been such a long time since she last beheld an Elf, but it had been many years since she viewed one in a darkened room. The dim lamplight did nothing to obscure the glimmer that encased Legolas. One would think that the expression on his face would be easy to read, for the shadows touched him not. Such was not the case. Legolas appeared as if carved in marble; Terisda could not make out if he so much as breathed. Even his eyes, level and cool on her own, gave no hint of what might be behind them.

  
  


For long moments, neither moved nor spoke.

  
  


Faced with a silence that she felt put her at an disadvantage, Terisda resorted to stark sarcasm. "And have you completed your survey of this room, my lord? I hope your report to the King concerning it will be a favorable one."

  
  


It was hard to tell, but it seemed to Terisda that the shimmer surrounding the Elf flinched a bit, even though he did not himself move. Perhaps he, too, was put off by the stiff formality between them. He tilted his head to the side in that manner she remembered he used when he was trying to decipher something that perplexed him. "I seem fated to come around you when you have been touched by grief," he finally said.

  
  


Terisda's forbearance had been stretched thin throughout the interminable day, and she found she had little tolerance for the roundabout nature of Elvish speech. Her words were edged. "If you had arrived a few months earlier, you would have found me 'consumed' rather than 'touched'. Having endured that after Hirgon's death, I'm sure it's a trial you have no wish to repeat."

  
  


"I regret nothing where you are concerned." But his voice was unexpectedly harsh, and Terisda had the feeling that the comment was not entirely addressed to her.

  
  


He took a single pace toward her and halted, his head again falling to the side, although she was beginning to believe that it was uncertainty at what he should do next rather than puzzlement that was causing his behavior. His steady regard unnerved her. "What is it?" she demanded.

  
  


"You still shine," he murmured. "I have told myself so often that it was the time, the place, the strain of the war and the release of tension with the Enemy's defeat -- but it is my reasoning that plays me false, not my memory. You are the brightest of any mortal I have ever beheld." 

  
  


He took another step toward her, one hand starting to lift, but she was unmoved and spoke coldly. "You have not yet seen Hirgilron. You may find that he is bright indeed. **I** have always thought so."

  
  


It was a plain challenge, and Legolas faltered before it. His gaze turned away, and faint, tense lines creased between his brows and upon his forehead. "I must speak with him."

  
  


That was no great surprise. She had been afraid that curiosity about his offspring might have finally outweighed the promise he made not to disturb her, and that was the reason behind his surprising appearance. "To what purpose? You have had no need to do so for thirty years. I cannot think of any reason now."

  
  


"He must be told the truth."

  
  


At that the breath went out of her as if she had been physically struck. "What?" The single word erupted as a high-pitched, hysterical shriek. Her hands clenched together in her lap, the nails digging in as she concentrated on physical pain to control her rising fear. She tried to speak rationally. "You seek an heir?" 

  
  


"No."

  
  


"You wish him to rule your lands when you go over the sea?"

  
  


A wry twist crossed his bright face at that question, and she recalled his words of long ago, that the insistence of Men in 'owning' land was a mystery to an Elf. "Of course not."

  
  


"But you mean to take him away?"

  
  


"That I cannot say."

  
  


"You cannot say?" She rose from the chair; her voice cracked from the strain of her emotions. "You **cannot** say?! You may not have him! He is mine! Not yours, mine!"

  
  


"That is as we agreed," replied the Elf without inflection, "although he has, as you earlier pointed out, reached the age of majority by the reckoning of your people. I do not know him, but I daresay he might think that he belongs to himself rather than to either of us."

  
  


His flat tone undercut her burgeoning fury. When she spoke again, it was with desperate confusion. "If you remember what was agreed, then why are you here? I never thought you were one who could not be trusted to keep his word." Her resolve hardened, and her anger resurfaced in bitter words. "How very like a Man you are, after all."

  
  


There was a flare in the light that encased him at that, a spike so bright it hurt to gaze upon him. Gasping, Terisda threw up her hands to shield her face, but it was as if mere flesh was too weak to block it out. Still she screwed her eyes closed and grit her teeth, refusing to turn her face away, and the light quickly quenched as Legolas brought whatever Elvish emotions he was experiencing under control. "I did not expect this to be easy," he said, and she was astonished when she discerned a hint of humor in his words. "Yet I cannot believe I had forgotten what you are like in a temper!" She peered through her fingers and found, though he was still bright, she could look upon him without pain. Then she dropped her hands and glared in disbelief, for he was laughing softly, and the look he gave her was full of fondness.

  
  


Should she live as long as the eldest of all the Firstborn, Terisda thought to herself, she would never, ever understand the peculiar moods that moved Elves. She strove to dampen her own passions, but her words were still harsher than she would have liked. "I can tell that going back on your oath pains you. Why are you doing this, then?"

  
  


The amusement slowly faded from his fair features, and his gaze turned stern. "I am not foresworn, Torrey. What I vowed is that I would not trouble you without reason. There is reason."

  
  


"If you do not need an heir nor a caretaker for your people's forests in South Ithilien, then I cannot see one."

  
  


"That is because you are a daughter of Man," he told her, and although his tone was neither unkind nor condescending, the words made her bristle anew. "There are reasons beyond the land and the care of the land that you do not consider."

  
  


"I tire of your riddles, Lord Elf. Speak plainly, if it is possible for one of your kind to do so."

  
  


He was silent for long moments, then he made a strange little pacing circle that was very uncharacteristic of him, and in that movement she sensed the Elvish equivalent of nervousness. "I had a dream," he began, and he seemed to correctly interpret the disbelieving stare that Teridsa gave him for he lifted a hand to silence her outburst. "Let me finish before you hand me my head, Torrey!" She subsided with an ill grace, jerking her head in a nod to show that she would try to contain herself, and he smiled at her before his face again turned serious. "I am not sure what it is that your people dream," he said, "but from how it has sometimes been described to me, the dreams of Men must be very different from the dreams of Elves. We do not revisit the day's events, nor fantasize about anticipated future outcomes, nor hold imaginary conversations with others be they living or dead. So when speech is heard by a dreaming Elf, we know it to be no trick of the imagination but a true visitation that must be taken seriously and acted upon."

  
  


"A visitation?" She was openly skeptical. "Are you so lofty among your own kind that they must communicate with you through dreams rather than venture speech to your face?"

  
  


"This message was not from one of my own."

  
  


Terisda was fast losing patience, which in truth was never a quality that she held in abundance. "If not another Elf, then who?"  
  


"Elentári," he breathed, his tone reverent. The title meant nothing to Terisda, and her lack of comprehension showed in her blank expression. Sighing, Legolas explained. "My people call her Elbereth. I know not what name Men might have for her. She is the Lady of the Stars and great among the Queens of the Valar."

  
  


"The Valar?" Her initial incredulity whipped into scorn. "The Valar! You have some fever dream and take it to be a message from the Valar?! As if the Valar actually exist! What nonsense is this?"

  
  


"You have lived through the defeat of an Enemy that tormented your people, **and** mine, through more than one Age, and Elves with three millennia of experience routinely visit your halls, but you doubt the existence of the Valar?" His incredulity matched her own, and his words turned just as sharp. "They are real, Torrey; as real as rich soil and green vines, as real as all the living things in Middle Earth combined. So real that it is ... it is beyond the greatest joy, and beyond the greatest pain as well, to feel the regard of one. And I would normally consider myself honored beyond measure to be the recipient of a visit from a Vala be I waking or sleeping, but for the reason behind it. There is a dread choice that must be tendered to your son."  
  


"What right have you to offer anything to Hirgilron? I will not permit this!" 

  
  
"I do not come seeking your permission. Whether you oppose me or not, it must be done. I did not think, however, that it was a fair thing to do without warning you first."  
  


"How very honorable of you," she spat. "And what is this dread choice that your Elbereth has charged you to deliver?"

  
  


"The choice of the Peredhil." 

  
  


Again Terisda's stare was blank, and she crossly demanded what the Queen's family had to do with anything that they were discussing. Legolas smiled again, but there was no trace of humor about him now. "And what choice did the Queen make, Torrey? What choice is it that the twins are rumored to have also made? Surely you know."

  
  


"Legolas, if I must again tell you how sick of Elvish riddles I am--!"

  
  


"Peredhil," he said again with a peculiar emphasis, but the gathering storm clouds on Terisda's visage indicated that she still did not understand the reference, and he grimaced in exasperation and translated the word into the Common Tongue. "Half-Elven. Arwen, Elrohir and Elladan are descendants of Lúthien and Beren. All the line of that fabled pair face the greatest and most perilous of decisions: to be mortal and die as Men die, or to chose the path of the Elves and thus live as long as Arda endures. This option is not tendered to all those with mixed mortal and Elvish blood, but Elbereth;" and on her name his words again took on the reverent tone despite the doom they imparted; "Elbereth told me that, because of my service in the Fellowship and my part in overthrowing the Dark, it would be offered to my own children. I never thought to tell you of this when we resolved to conceive a child back in Minas Tirith, because it never crossed my mind that our child would face such a decision."

  
  


Terisda gaped at him.

  
  


"Yes," Legolas murmured. "My reaction was much the same."

  
  


\------------------

  
  
  
  



	4. Waves, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

****

Waves, Part 1

\------------------

She broke everything in the room that was breakable. Which wasn't a great deal, but Legolas didn't remain visible long enough to serve as either witness or target. For all that he claimed that he had forgotten her temper (and given the complete recall Elves were gifted with, Terisda seriously doubted the veracity of that statement), he remembered enough to wrap the shadows about himself and vanish into them before the first projectile hit the wall.

The sitting room offered more satisfaction. There were porcelains in there, and the flat sound made by fracturing clay proved very gratifying. She had just finished off the water pitcher and was considering the best way to tip over the heavy washbasin when Einda peeked in, her dark hair loose about her shoulders, a shawl haphazardly draped over her nightclothes. Her wide eyes took in the destruction, and she timidly asked if her mother was feeling all right. "I'm fine," replied Terisda with a brittle smile. "Why ever do you ask?" Then the washbasin hit the stone floor and shattered into several large pieces. Terisda picked each piece up and threw it down again, and again, until what remained was little more than powder.

After another wide-eyed stare, Einda murmured that she would see her mother at breakfast and fled the ruins of her parents' chambers.

Having run out of crockery in the other rooms, Terisda stormed into what had been her husband's dressing closet. There was another pitcher and washbasin there, which promptly suffered the identical fate of the set in the sitting room, then Terisda espied the glass on the wall, used by Einar when he felt the need to trim his beard. She snatched it up, meaning to destroy it as she had destroyed everything else that had come into her hands that eve, but as she turned it in her hands to get a better throwing grip the dim light from the adjoining room reflected off its polished surface directly into Terisda's eyes. Startled, she glanced at it, and found she was glaring at herself. It was an ugly expression that the glass showed her, and it shocked her that she could look so. After a couple of stunned blinks, she held the mirror an arm's length away to study her own reflection. 

She did not look all that different, she told herself. There were faint lines pressed into the skin around her eyes, and perhaps her jaw was not as firm as it once had been, but she looked ... she looked ...

She looked exactly like what she was; a handsome-enough woman who had stepped over the threshold of youth into middle age and resolutely closed the door after herself. Not unattractive, certainly not old ... but there were changes there if one looked closely enough, and those changes would only become more evident as time continued to stroke her with its inevitable, indelible brush.

Terisda clutched the mirror to her chest, her proud head drooping until her nose touched her crossed wrists, cursing the vanity that made seeing Legolas after all this time that much more difficult. She had gotten used to the unaltered twins over the years, and whatever changes time wrought in her between their visits was gradual enough that she didn't notice them herself, but to see Legolas looking just the same after so much time was a painful reminder of her own mortality. _As if a woman who has outlived two husbands **needs** yet another reminder,_ she thought to herself, and a few bitter tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes.

But self-pity, like trust, was not something that came easily to one raised in Ithilien. Terisda angrily dashed the tears from her eyes, reminding herself that she was fortunate to be a daughter of Numenor for, though age was inescapable, it touched her more lightly than other women. Andina, who was close to her own age, came from a family with a lineage equally mercantile as noble, and the much-diluted bloodline was becoming more evident as she matured. Eowyn ... Eowyn, younger in years than either Terisda or Andina, was **old**. The Princess of Ithilien looked more like Faramir's mother than his bride. Well, perhaps 'older sister' would be a more kindly description, decided Terisda after some consideration -- a very stately, well-preserved older sister at that -- but Faramir seemed little changed from the Man who had argued for Terisda's stewardship of Hirgon's lands before the King thirty years previously.

She wondered how she and Einar had appeared through Faramir's eyes the last time they met, and ruefully acknowledged that her kinsman's thoughts must have run much along the same lines as hers.

She had been very fortunate in both her husbands. Terisda was reminded of her extraordinary good luck every time some malicious whisper of Lord so-and-so's need to discipline his spouse reached her ears, and again whenever she visited Hiranion's household and beheld Andina, who seemed to become more wraith-like and unsubstantial over time. Of course Terisda knew that was partially due to Andina's own delicate constitution, but she also thought that Hiranion's insistence on cocooning Andina contributed to that lady's listless nature. Say what one would of either Hirgon or Einar, neither had tried to coddle her. Hirgon was the one who taught her to ride pell-mell in case she ever needed to outpace orcs (and a fortunate thing that proved on their final desperate dash out of Ithilien!) and even drilled her on the most efficient way to use a dagger on herself should she find herself in orcish hands. Einar often raised his brows at Terisda's behavior, and they sometimes had words when he thought the example she set for Einda could be a little more ladylike, but he was a Rider and his definition of 'ladylike' was far less restrictive than that of a noble of Gondor. And it never went further than words with Einar; if they disagreed, they let each other know about it, and it usually ended there.

He had asked her once about Hirgilron's father. She regarded him blankly before spreading her hands out and asking what else there was about Hirgon he wished to know, for surely she had told him everything. Her bewilderment was genuine, for in her heart and mind she had grown so used to thinking of Hirgilron as Hirgon's son that it was the truth to her, and so the question made no sense. Einar's lips pressed tightly for a moment, then the wry grin came and he shrugged and agreed that he did, indeed, know more than enough about her paragon of a first husband. It wasn't until she was half-asleep that the portent of his words came to her, and she jerked fully awake, realizing that the question had not been about Hirgon at all, that a breeder of horses was not ignorant of the breeding of Men, that Einar **knew** , if not the details, some portion of the truth. She turned to the sleeping Man beside her, wondering what she should say, if she should say anything, what he would do if his suspicions were confirmed, if it would prove a sore point between them or if he would appreciate her honesty. Even if he accepted what she had done, would his own integrity compel him to go before Prince Faramir or even King Elessar to inform him that the Lord of North Ithilien was not Hirgon's natural son and so had no claim on the land? She could not decide, for like all Riders he placed a high value on honor, and she was uncertain what he might determine was the honorable thing to do should he know the truth. In the end she did nothing, salving her conscience by telling herself that, if he asked again, she would then answer him honestly. 

But he never asked again.

Feeling rudderless, still holding her husband's glass in her arms, Terisda meandered out of Einar's dressing closet. Dispassionately viewing the devastation of the antechamber in the flickering light of the oil lamp, she gave a little half-shrug, righted the straight-back chair, and seated herself facing the doors to the balcony, the same position she had assumed as she awaited Legolas. She placed the glass in her lap, but she did not again gaze into it. Instead she stared at the carvings that graced the paneled doors and let her mind wander where it would.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Her mother did not appear at breakfast, but both Legolas and Gimli did, and for the first time in her young life Einda found herself performing the duties of hostess. Fortunately the meal was routine and so her duties were not onerous, but she still felt very much as if she were a singer of ballads with all eyes fixed firmly upon her. It was far from the truth. Gimli was eager to begin his survey, mostly because (as he said) there was nothing much here apart from trees, and the sooner the trees were cataloged the sooner they could move on to more interesting climes where rocks, not plants, dominated. The Dwarf demonstrated his determination to get started by shoveling in food at a rate that fascinated Eimar, so much so that her brother barely touched his own meal lest he miss the Dwarf's performance. The Elf Lord was polite, and he ate with the same delicate precision Elrohir and Elladan displayed, making her feel her own hands were all thumbs as she handled the cutlery. But he was in his own way as efficient as the Dwarf, and they soon departed for the duties assigned to them by the King.

"Is something wrong with Mama?" Eimar asked, mostly to distract Einda from badgering him about finishing his own meal. "That Elf kept asking about her. I told him that she just liked to sleep late sometimes. He got a funny look on his face when I said that, didn't he?"

"I didn't notice." After being awakened in the middle of the night by the dull thuds of crockery in the process of being smashed, Einda was more than a little curious about her mother's state of mind herself. She had met a couple of the night watchmen on her way out of her mother's chambers, and told them honestly that her mother had broken a few things but she was in no danger and it appeared best to leave her alone. Hiraldon said that it was a mistake to try to hide things that couldn't be hidden from the servants for it led to gossip and, ultimately, to divided loyalties within the household. Einda had the feeling that massive amounts of broken household objects probably counted as an event that could not be hidden. "Let's go see how she's doing. If she's asleep, we won't wake her up."

Eimar grinned in relief. His attempt at distraction worked; he would not have to eat the despised boiled eggs this day.

Cautiously did Einda push open the doors to her mother's suite, half-expecting some clay-based missile to smash against the wood as she did so. But within all was silent. She stepped in, and thought it was a good thing that she planned on exercising the horses after breakfast for she was wearing her riding boots, and some of the broken bits of porcelain that crunched under her soles might have pierced straight through less sturdy footwear. Her mother was not in the room, but Einda saw that the large chair from the bedroom was placed at a haphazard angle in the antechamber, and upon its seat was something shiny that was, miraculously, intact. The doors to the balcony were ajar. She stopped by the chair, glancing down to determine that the shiny object was a looking glass, then turned her head to look out toward the balcony. Her mother was there, but her back was to Einda and Eimar, and she did not in any way indicate that she perceived her children had entered the room.

Einda knew her mother had a temper; Uncle Hiranion thought it a very unladylike thing to possess; but she had never known Terisda to willfully destroy entire rooms. She would throw the occasional metal cup, but usually at a wall in full view of all, announcing immediately that she felt better and it was now safe to be around her. Both her father and Eimar had always found that a very diverting spectacle. 

Behind her, Eimar explored the room with a great deal of interest. "The governess gets upset with me if all I do is leave my doublet on the bed," he complained.

Einda took the mirror from the seat of the chair and studied it carefully. She recognized it by the Rohirric runes on its frame as the one belonging to her father. On mornings when she had been much younger she used to go into the dressing room to hold Einar's razors or towels as he prepared for the day, feeling very adult as he solemnly praised her excellent squiring abilities. Sorrowfully she looked towards her mother's straight back. Folding the mirror against her chest much as Terisda had done in the early morning hours, she went to the open door and stepped out onto the balcony. "Mama," she said, "we miss him, too. So much."

There was no sign that her mother heard her, but after a long pause Terisda spoke quietly. "Why would anyone chose to die?"

"Mama, it wasn't his choice. Specter threw him, for whatever reason. He was a Rider, though. There are worse ways for a Rider to leave the world."

"And why would anyone chose to live, when living beyond those that matter brings so much pain?"

"Mama?" Einda asked uncertainly.

From the doorway Eimar piped up, pragmatic as only a ten-year-old could be. "Are you doing anything, or are you just woolgathering?" Einda snapped out his name reprovingly. "What? The governess always says I'm woolgathering when I stare out the window."

Terisda stirred slightly, but she did not turn to face her children. "Woolgathering, but with a purpose," she answered her son. "I am trying to imagine what I might see from the balcony should Hiranion or Hiraldon come into possession of this place."

"Has something happened to Hirgilron?" demanded Einda in instant alarm, for as much as her sympathies lay with her uncle and cousins, she loved her older brother as well and did not wish any harm to come to him.

"No; no. Just ... just a foolish whimsy of mine, no more."

"They'd chop everything down and turn all into farmland, so you'd be able to see a lot further," offered Eimar. "You could probably see all the way to the Dead Marshes!"

Terisda's hands clenched on the balustrade of the balcony. "Yes, that is exactly how I pictured it," she murmured. "Ah, Hirgon. I tried ... I tried to save your lands. Mayhap it is fate that it all be plowed under."

"That is not such a dread thing. Gondor needs farmlands," said Einda seriously. "Just as we need lumber and stone for building. If the forest just sits about unused, then it is a waste."

"Let Lord Elrohir or Lord Elladan hear you say that, and you'll get your pigtails pulled!"

"They wouldn't dare do that now that I'm all grown up!" returned Einda hotly before recollecting that grown-ups didn't deign to snap at their obnoxious little brothers. She turned her nose into the air with a little sniff. "Besides, I'm much too old to wear pigtails."

"They're Elves. They live forever and ever. They probably don't think even Mama is all that old."

A faint wince flicked across their mother's face at that, but the blunt comment appeared to break the strange abstraction that had taken hold of her. Terisda turned, leaning back against the balcony's edge as she regarded her children thoughtfully. "I think it may be time to send both of you to Minas Tirith." 

"What?" gasped Einda.

"What?" pouted Eimar. "I thought I was going to Rohan!"

"The Riders require their squires to be a little older. Besides, you are not that wild about horses, are you?"

"I ride just fine!" protested Eimar, bravely covering the unease he felt. Horses were all right when they just trotted along and got you where you needed to go, but Papa's horses were big and fast and sometimes snapped at inquisitive little boys with their broad lips pulled back to show off their big white teeth. And one of them had **killed** Papa, which still made him very sad although it had happened a whole year ago, and which would be enough to give any little boy second thoughts about being around them all of the time.

Terisda smiled at him. "If you're going to go to Rohan, horses have to be the most important thing in your life. It's a shame I can't send **you** to squire there," she told her daughter. "Rohan would suit you, I think."

"It wouldn't be ladylike of me to do something like that," replied her daughter primly.

"Hiranion's influence again," grumbled her mother. "For that comment alone I'm tempted to dispatch you to your father's people and instruct them to make another Eowyn out of you. Alas, they would never take me literally." She examined her daughter carefully, as if making a study of the girl. "I think, before you settle for your cousin, you might wish a wider acquaintance of Men. And your father was right; you are old enough to go. It is my own vanity that holds you here when you should be at court attending the Queen."

Einda glanced over her shoulder at the ruin her mother had created, and said carefully, "I should not like to leave you alone. And, besides, I have always lived here. I'm not sure ... I'm not sure I would like it in Minas Tirith. You didn't like it when you were there."

"I did not," admitted Terisda. "Yet my sojourn there was very fortunate in many ways. For example; if I had remained in Ithilien, I would never have met your father in the Houses of Healing, he would have never had any reason to search for rumor of me when he was assigned to Eowyn's honor guard, he would not have come north to court me, and neither of you would be here. So, as much as I longed to return here when we were forced away, good things did come of my exile." She smiled at her daughter. "Very good things," she said, and Einda blushed prettily.

"Anyway, if you'd stayed here, you would've been gobbled up by orcs," pointed out Eimar.

"You are a little ghoul!" hissed Einda, who was not sure but thought that was exactly what had happened to their grandparents. "Be quiet!"

"Very likely," agreed Terisda with a perfectly straight face. "I was still young and tender in those days, and would have made an excellent meal for a hungry orc. Perhaps even for more than one orc, if they were small ones that weren't very hungry. I suppose I have missed breakfast?"

"Yes, but Einda pretended to be the lady of the house and the Elf and the Dwarf didn't mind," Eimar informed her. "I told them that you like to sleep in some mornings, and the Elf gave me such an odd look! I suppose they don't sleep at all, and he just didn't understand what I meant."

"Oh, Elves sleep," said his mother. "They do so with their eyes wide open, though, so it is hard to be sure if they are really asleep or just pretending. A good elbow in the ribs usually clears up the matter. Perhaps you can try that on Elrohir next time he and Elladan come to stay." Eimar agreed that sounded like a grand plan, while Einda rolled her eyes and thought it was little wonder she had such uncouth brats for brothers. Terisda looked past her children into the antechamber, and pulled a wry face. "I shall have to make a stab at cleaning that up, so that the maids do not complain too bitterly about the extra work I am making for them! And you two should be at your lessons, not checking up on your old mother."

Einda gave her mother an impulsive hug. "Mama, I'm happy to stay here as long as you need me."

"How very proper of you," said her mother dryly. "Fortunately it is also proper for you to go to court, so do not fear Hiraldon will think less of you for doing so." Einda blushed again, but for a far different reason, and Terisda sighed and shook her head. "I see I left this too late," she muttered, but she hugged her daughter back and tousled her son's hair over his loud protests, and sent them both on their way. 


	5. Waves, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

**Waves, Part 2**

  
  


\------------------------------------------

  
  


Part of Eimar's chores included helping the stablemaster during the afternoon hours. Despite his nervousness around his father's breeding stock the young boy did not mind mucking out the stalls or currying the less volatile riding horses. In fact, these tasks were much preferred to any the governess might assign to keep him occupied, so Eimar oft set out for the stables directly after lunch even though it was well before the appointed time for his duties.

  
  


Having traversed the path between the manor and the main stables many times, any slight deviation in the surrounding landscape was sure to promptly catch Eimar's attention. And so it was that when the corner of his eye picked up a strange new bump at the base of an oak tree only a little distance away, the little boy knew something was out of place. His mind immediately filled with tales of orcs and wargs, and even thoughts of some odd type of daylight-dwelling troll played through his imagination, especially when he heard low rumbling snorts that he could not place as any animal that he knew. Eimar's hand dropped to the short sword belted at his waist and he stepped off the path, hoping that whatever-it-was couldn't hear his heart pounding. It did occur to him that perhaps he should run back to the manor (slowly, so that no one would think he was afraid or anything) and get some of the men-at-arms, but with Hirgilron away at Culumaldas he was the Man of the household and therefore needed to take charge.

  
  


He used some of the woodcraft tricks that Hirgilron had been showing him of late, for his brother had been taught by the Elf lords and some said he was as good at tracking as any Ranger. So Eimar stepped with toe down first rather than heel, and breathed evenly through his mouth to control his rising excitement. He even carefully slithered through underbrush on his belly a time or two, although he was small enough not to have to worry much about overtopping it. His cautious stalking finally brought him to within a few yards of the suspiciously grunting lump, and despite his best efforts at control, his breath was coming in pants and his heart was beating fit to pound out of his chest.

  
  


So it was that when he parted a clump of tall grass with hands that trembled in excitement, he was extremely disappointed to find it was just Gimli the Dwarf nestled between two gnarled roots, his head tilted back against the tree trunk, snoring loudly. Eimar sat up and glared at the Dwarf for a couple of minutes. Then a crafty expression took hold of his young face. He plucked a few blades of grass that were tufted at the end and began to creep forward again, holding his breath until he was level with Gimli's boots. Stretching out his arm to dangle the grass blades over Gimli's face, he slowly waved them back and forth a hairs-breadth from the Dwarf's nose.

  
  


"You should let sleeping Dwarves lie, young lord."

  
  


Startled almost out of his skin, Eimar jumped and tried to locate where the voice had come from. His ears told him 'up', and after spinning about and looking in more reasonable directions, he began to stare into the trees. He would not have seen Legolas perched on a bough well above Gimli's slumbering body except that the Elf came suddenly to his feet and the trace of movement attracted his eye. Even when he knew where to look it was hard to keep his gaze full on the Elf, for he was not only very high up but blended in so well with the dappled shadows that there were moments he seemed to flicker from view.

  
  


"Is he really asleep?"

  
  


"I've never heard such sounds from Gimli save when he sleeps. Usually I try to be well away so I do not have to listen to him, but it has been a time since I have been in this part of Ithilien. Since I am not sure what might be about that would consider a Dwarf a tasty treat I remained above to keep an eye on him. He will be quite cross when he wakes and realizes I have made no effort at beginning the survey here."

  
  


"I thought maybe he was like Elves."

  
  


"You thought a Dwarf was like an Elf? Gimli is correct; we need to go among Men more often."

  
  


"Mama says that Elves sleep with their eyes wide open and you have to poke them to make sure they aren't teasing you. I thought maybe he was pretending."

  
  


The Elf's head went to the side, and just for a instant there was that in his face that reminded Eimar of ... something. But the moment passed before he could put his finger on it. "Here is one very great difference between Dwarves and Elves, young Man; Dwarves are not so playful as to pretend to be anything. Gimli is sleeping both because there is not much to interest him in these lands, and because he said he did not get much rest last night. He is as sensitive to stones as I am to trees, and he claimed that the stone in his rooms kept shivering all night. So he decided to take a nap and let me examine this area."

  
  


"Mama was throwing things," said Eimar matter-of-factly. "He could feel that all the way in the other wing?" The young boy was much impressed, and the gaze he turned back to the Dwarf was admiring.

  
  


The Elf dropped down to a lower branch so quickly it seemed one move, although he had to step swiftly on many intervening branches on the way. He knelt just a few feet off the ground, his eyes so bright that Eimar wondered how he could hide so well. "Should you be out by yourself, this far from the manor?"

  
  


"Oh, I'm allowed as far as those trees," and Eimar pointed to a copse of densely-packed birches that nestled near the stable's pond. The pond itself was out-of-bounds unless he had an adult with him, but he had high hopes that restriction would be rescinded on his next birthday. "There's no danger anymore. Papa took care of the last orcs, with other Riders and Rangers and Prince Faramir and the Elf lords, long ago. They could've waited until I was around so I could at least have seen an orc once."

  
  


"Last time I was this far north, there were orcs and more than orcs here. Glad I am that they no longer trouble this land! Yet there are places where fell things still exist. Few go willingly into such dangerous regions, although Elladan and Elrohir oft travel out from Rivendell to combat agents of the Dark."

  
  


"Do you think I'd see orcs if I went and lived with the Elves?"

  
  


"If you lived with those particular Elves, yes; you would see orcs and more, although they would likely take you from here since the most pressing dangers are in the warring lands towards the South. But you should visit Rivendell despite its lack of orcs. Men are always welcome there, and it is one of the most beautiful places in Middle Earth. Your King and Queen were both raised within its halls." The Elf smiled down at him, correctly interpreting the dawning excitement in the young boy's face. "You should definitely ask your mother before you set off, either for Rivendell or to join the southern battles."

  
  


Although he was sure that his mother would say 'no' to both, it was still a thought worthy of being stored in his young mind for he understood that someday he would be big enough to do whatever he wanted, and it seemed like traveling in search of adventure might suit him. Eimar knew that Hirgilron owned the lands to the Dead Marshes and beyond, and that the strip of forest that included Culumaldas would belong to Einda eventually, but he was never sure what, if anything, he was supposed to get. With his luck it would be his father's war horses. Perhaps when he was larger riding one would not be so bad, especially if he could ride it someplace where there were still orcs to fight, but handling an entire herd of the temperamental beasts for ever and ever was more than he could contemplate. Eimar wondered if his sister would consider trading Culumaldas for the horses, and resolved to ask her at supper. He studied the snoozing Dwarf for a minute before craning his head to address the Elf. "Your friend is quite safe here. The most that would happen these days is that he would get stepped on by a horse, and even so the free-ranging ones don't come here often. The land isn't open enough for them." 

  
  


"I suppose that is part of the problem," murmured the Elf. 

  
  


Eimar looked at him in a questioning manner, then nodded in understanding; the Elf was talking to himself, the way Mama did sometimes. It appeared to be just one of those things adults did. "I have to go to the stables to help exercise and then cool down the horses," the boy said, then he gave a little bow as he made his farewells. "I hope to see you at supper, my lord." He used his best grown-up voice, glancing up through his bangs to see if the Elf noticed.

  
  


The Elf did. Legolas gave a solemn incline of the head, careful to keep the smile from his face until after Eimar made it back to the path. He went a bit higher in the tree, following the boy's progress with his sharp eyes until he was sure that Eimar made it safely to the corralled pasture that marked the edge of the stabling area. Then he gave a small start as if he had just realized something. He cast his gaze upon his friend at the oak's base, and his words were accusing. "Gimli. You are no longer snoring."

  
  


Gimli grunted but did not deign to open his eyes. "I suppose I have enough practice to sleep through anything **you** say, but the young one's voice is on the shrill side. I think you have surveyed that particular tree well and thoroughly, Legolas."

  
  


"I did not want to leave you alone in the wilds of North Ithilien, friend Gimli."

  
  


"There are no 'wilds' anymore if the boy is to be believed, and I have seen nothing in our journey north that makes me doubt him. It is one of the reasons that some Men talk of turning this area into farmlands; they deem it is now safe to do so. If you wish to do as Aragorn desires and provide him with reasons **not** to do so, perhaps you might consider moving on to another tree or two before the day is out."

  
  


"And perhaps I would do the best by the land if I keep you from confirming the rumors of mithril in the mountains."

  
  


"Mithril will bring Dwarves, not Men. We will stay underground like sensible folk and not harm your precious trees."

  
  


"Mayhap, but even that which was Mordor does not deserve to be overrun by Dwarves."

  
  


Gimli snorted. "If you are quite done displaying your wit, Master Elf, I suggest you get a move on. I think you will be very unhappy with any catalog of plants that I turn in to the King."

  
  


It seemed the Elf might argue further but the leaves rustled in a nearby hardwood, then a close-set young elm quivered, then the very oak Gimli leaned against shivered enough to make the Dwarf sit up hastily. It was odd, because the Dwarf could not feel any breeze where he was, but Legolas looked away with a faint frown on his fair face, his gaze trying to pinpoint something in the distance, and Gimli realized that there had been no breeze to feel. He made an elaborate show of settling back down. "Go on, go on," he grumbled at his friend. "What are you worried about? I have seen no sign of anything more dangerous than the horses yonder, and any horse fool enough to step on **me** will be stew soon enough."

  
  


Legolas hesitated but a moment longer. Then he climbed higher into the canopy where the thin branches from adjoining trees interlaced, and followed this trail from tree top to tree top until he was lost to sight.

  
  


The Dwarf lay quietly for some time under the tree. Suddenly he snorted again. "'Survey,' indeed," he muttered to himself. "I shall be lucky to get anywhere near the mountains before winter at this rate." He tipped his helm across his eyes and folded his broad hands across his chest, and was soon once more soundly asleep.

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------------

  
  


Terisda thought a ride might do her some good. Such was her mood that she even considered taking one of the two stud horses, although she was sure that she did not have the strength to control a stallion should it decide a flat-out gallop was preferable to the canter she favored or, worse, should it catch a whiff of a seasonal mare. In the end she decided to stick to the geldings; she was upset, not actively suicidal. She walked briskly through the trees, eschewing the path, listening absently to the rustle of leaves as she passed. Oaks predominated on this part of the land, interspersed with hickories, elms and the occasional maple. Trees meant for cutting, Hiranion might say; practical trees that could be turned into lumber, covering a wide expanse that could be cleared for dwellings of Men.

  
  


Before the orcs came, there had been even more trees. The old stable had been in the same spot by the pond, although originally it was just a single building with a couple of riding horses and Hirgon's war mount housed there. She remembered glancing over her shoulder on that long-ago night and seeing the first flicks of flame light up the night sky. Then Hirgon shouted at her to keep her eyes before her and she wrenched her head around, never again looking back. When finally she returned to his lands she found the old stable utterly destroyed, and discovered that a fair amount of the surrounding land sported twisted, dead trunks in place of a living forest. Some of the wood could be salvaged, however, and was used to reconstruct a stable in the same spot. She left the cleared land alone, for rebuilding the half-destroyed manor occupied her energies for many years, but Einar had seen in it the potential for enough pastureland to support a breeding herd of horses. Thus a larger stable was built, and the land fenced off so that the forest could not reclaim it. 

  
  


She had yet to discuss it with Hirgilron, but Terisda was sure that he was not very interested in the breeding of horses. Perhaps the time had come to take the fences down. Then she thought of Einda's reaction, and a rueful smile touched her mouth. Perhaps not. 

  
  


"Ah, you **can** still smile," said Legolas from somewhere over her head. "I was beginning to wonder."

  
  


Halting, Terisda shaded her eyes to look up into the canopy, but she could see no sign of the Elf. "Here," came his voice from another direction, much lower than it had been. Terisda redirected her gaze about halfway up a nearby elm. At first she thought the spindly branches there too weak to support even an Elf, and she started to cast her gaze toward the more robust oaks. "Still here," said his voice again, a little amused this time. She turned back and, even knowing he had to be there, nevertheless experienced trouble picking out his lithe form until she saw the silver gleam of his eyes. He had one shoulder against the tree's trunk, arms crossed over his chest, feet set in a crotch that did not bend under his weight despite its fragile appearance. It was hard to tell where Elf and tree separated, so at one did they appear. 

  
  


It occurred to her that, had she seen him like this originally, she never would dared approach him, or indeed any Elf. He appeared as fey as any wild woodland creature, and, despite his amusement at the moment, as dangerous as well.

  
  


Her exertions of the previous night, coupled with her lack of sleep, left Terisda incapable of generating any strong emotion at his presence. She said rather flatly, "I see you are more bold when I do not have weapons immediately to hand."

  
  


"If you had been in less of a temper I might have helped you. It was exceptionally unattractive work. Especially the washbasins."

  
  


She exhaled in exasperation. "I should have known you were still there. I hope you found the display diverting."

  
  


He spoke more seriously. "I did not mean to intrude, but I was afraid you might injure yourself. Oh, not intentionally; but you were dealing with some sharp pieces and you were handling them rather" -- the smile pressed against his mouth again -- "carelessly. I left once you settled back into the chair."

  
  


"The pitchers and washbasins were wedding gifts from my husband's family. He always thought they were very ugly, but his brother has visited from time to time so we kept them about."

  
  


"I could procure replacements for you. Ceramics from Lothlorien are especially lovely, and rather more hardy than what you have here."

  
  
__

Of **course** anything Elvish is both prettier and sturdier. Her mouth twisted up at one corner, and her tone was very dry. "I think you have given me quite enough already, Lord Elf." His smile shifted into a grin, and he dropped down from the tree, landing in front of her so lightly that not a blade of grass stirred and it was as if he had simply been standing there all along. Terisda regarded him warily. "Why do you seek me out, Legolas? You have explained your dread mission. There is nothing more to be said about it."

  
  


Evidently he agreed, for he did not pursue the subject. Instead he gazed at her thoughtfully as the smile continued to play about his lips. "I have never seen you in the full light of day."

  
  


For all that she was weary of strong emotions, Terisda found that he was already beginning to rile her. "It was a bright enough morn when first we met and these shadows can hardly be called 'full light'. What is it you want?"

  
  


"Peace between us."

  
  


Terisda folded her arms and glared at him.

  
  


"At least a truce?"

  
  


"Eh," she finally grumbled. "I am going riding. Walk with me to the stables if you wish."

  
  


She strode off, but of course he had no difficulty adjusting his stride to hers so there was no hope of outpacing him. And of course he made no sound, nor was the ground disturbed by his passing, and soon Terisda felt as loud and awkward as an oliphaunt crashing through the underbrush. "I have visited your horses," he told her. "They are content animals, if a little bored."

  
  


It was an impersonal subject for conversation, but Terisda did not trust the Elf and it showed in her sidelong glance at him. "They are exercised less with Einar's death, and the care they receive is probably little more than adequate. We have reduced their numbers, but I was just thinking that maintaining a breeding herd is perhaps beyond us. Still, the line Einar started here is in demand as war horses, and as long as the wars continue in the South and the East there is a need for our foals. Perhaps one stud and a few mares to perpetuate the line until someone else takes on the responsibility."

  
  


"Hirgilron is not interested in the breeding of horses?"

  
  


She said, repressively, "He has not been, no." 

  
  


Legolas gave her a searching look. Halting, he caught up her hand. "Torrey, I meant it when I said I wanted there to be peace between us. I would not cause you an instant of discomfort if it could be avoided."

  
  


"Then you should not have come."

  
  


"I could not ignore such a messenger." Briefly there was a note of reproof in his tone, but then the corners of his eyes slanted up in that way he had when he was amused. Terisda was surprised that she remembered such a detail about him. "I knew you to be well cared for, else you might have seen me before now."

  
  


"The Elf lords give you reports?" she demanded, alarmed, for it was a threat to her family if any others knew her secret.

  
  


But Legolas shook his fair head. "Not the way you mean, no. We are only rarely in the same place. I do not go to Minas Tirith unless the King commands me, and that is where they spend most of their time when they are in Gondor. I am not ignorant of what happens outside of the forests, however, and I listen when visitors speak. Perhaps I listen more closely when what they speak of you and yours, but that is not something anyone else would notice."

  
  


He was still holding her hand, his flesh cool and smooth against hers. She looked at it, pointedly, but he did not seem to notice. "Why are you even still in Middle-earth? I thought you were going over the sea with the rest of your kin. You said you had to leave soon."

  
  


"'Soon' as an Elf measures time. I promised Aragorn I would remain as long as he rules, and as much as the sea calls to me, I hope it will be many decades yet before the need to hold to that promise is lifted. Yet it **will** be all too soon. " He looked down at the tiny hand captured in his own, his words becoming reflective. "The Lady Galadriel resisted the calling for centuries because she had work to do in Middle-earth, and I think perhaps because Lord Celeborn did not wish to leave. I do not have the Lady's strength of will. Promise or no, some days it takes all I have to remain."

  
  


_Centuries... They think in terms of centuries..._ A noble of Gondor could expect to see a single century in a lifetime, but multiple ones were rare even for the most long-lived of Men anymore. What did one do with all of that time? Terisda spoke her thoughts. "I have tried to decide what I would do, given such a choice. But I cannot grasp it."

  
  


Legolas nodded. "I have done the same, and the result is the same. I am an Elf, and always will be; the concept of mortality is bewildering."

  
  


"And the thought of eternity, overwhelming. I do not think mortal minds are meant to wrestle with notions of endless time." Her tone was absent, for he was **still** holding her hand, and it was making her... _I am too old for this._ Terisda gave an experimental tug, and he promptly released her. "Will you ride with me, lord?" she asked, not out of any real desire for his company but because she had no idea what else to say, and falling back on common courtesy was at least something. Terisda was very relieved when he refused.

  
  


"Nay, not this time. I have done little of what I was sent here to do, and I will never hear the end of it from Gimli if I do not make some inroads on our project! This is the part of the journey where he gets to be lazy, not I. My time for rest will come when we are in the mountains." He smiled into her eyes. "I will see you tonight, Torrey."

  
  


"As you wish, lord," Terisda said, although what ran through her mind were a litany of mysterious ailments that might save her from enduring even one meal with him. She blocked off the idea; she was no coward, to hide behind women's complaints rather than deal with the Elf's presence. She bowed her head to him just enough for the sake of politeness, and did not look back as she marched on to the stables. 

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------

  
  


She did take one of the riding horses rather than a stallion, and she rode the gelding hard, giving him his head and enjoying it as the wind tore through her hair. When she returned to her suite within the manor, her mind was calmer. It was half exhaustion, for she had been awake now for many hours without rest, but there was also a certain degree of resignation. No matter how she examined the problem, she could not see any way to offer the choice to Hirgilron that he would not be made aware of the truth of his parentage. The inevitability of her exposure had the peculiar effect of settling her mind. She stood on the balcony outside her rooms and this time did not try to imagine the land as anything other than what was before her. There she remained for some time, watching the shifting light as the late afternoon shadows grew.

  
  


Eventually there was a light footfall behind her. Sighing, Terisda turned, expecting to see Legolas standing on her balcony. But a thought in her mind pricked, and she knew before she completed the movement that it couldn't be Legolas. When did the Elf make any sound at all? And although the clear eyes that met hers were exactly the same as those of the Elf (and how was it that she never noticed before?), such was her mindset that the fact the face framing them was different took an instant to register.

  
  


"Hullo, Mother," said Hirgilron, grinning at her. "I see you've redecorated a bit."

  
  



	6. Waves, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

****

Waves, Part 3

  
  


\------------------------------------------

  
  


There was a disorienting instant of reeling shock during which Terisda experienced a peculiar triple vision. Hirgon's face transposed over her son's, then the face of Legolas, then she blinked hard and Hirgilron's own features came into focus; the clear smiling eyes, the dark smooth hair cut far shorter than was fashionable. She stared at him, noting aspects of his visage that she had never before thought particularly remarkable, and a terrible thought throbbed into her mind: _How could anyone **not** know?_

  
  


"Mother? Are you all right?"

  
  


It was a good thing that the balustrade was immediately behind her, for otherwise she would have had a difficult time maintaining her feet. Terisda leaned back against it to support her trembling legs. She folded her arms across her chest, clenched fists tucked under her elbows, and tried to speak calmly. "Goodness, you startled me! I thought you would be at Culumaldas for another ten-day at least. How proceeds the work there?"

  
  


"The quarry shipment was early, and I thought laying the masonry might proceed more smoothly if I was not constantly lurking about the place. The trees get nervous when the workmen are around and weren't happy to see me leave, but I managed to soothe them well enough."

  
  


She looked at him uncertainly; she was never sure how seriously she should take him when he said such things. But he grinned rakishly at her, and she was struck by how much he reminded her of Hirgon when he smiled. Which made no sense at all. 

  
  


"What is happening here?" Hirgilron asked.

  
  


Terisda was immediately on the defensive. "What have you heard? Has something brought you back early?"

  
  


He gave her a searching look. "Is it such an odd question? I have been gone for a while."

  
  


Terisda relaxed, but only a bit, and talked to him of manor matters for a few minutes. But other thoughts were closer to the surface of her mind, and her report was perfunctory. After but a brief exchange Hirgilron interrupted her, his tone amused. "Since you have just agreed that the Dead Marshes would be an excellent training ground for shield maidens, I know you are not listening to either me or yourself. Is there some other concern that troubles you?"

  
  


"I have an over-busy mind these days," Terisda admitted. She looked up at her eldest son, trying to imprint him into her memory at this moment, taking in the height of him, the breadth of his shoulders, the smooth skin of his face. He had been envious of Einar's beard in his youth, but long ago given up trying to grow one himself. He dressed in rusty greens and browns when he was on the grounds, much as a Ranger did although his preferred weapon was a bastard sword rather than a bow. She did not think he looked overmuch like an Elf, for whatever it was that Legolas and the Elf lords possessed that so clearly defined them as such was missing in his manner, but she also did not think it would be too difficult to convert him into one. "Do you believe in the Valar?" she blurted out.

  
  


His head pulled back a little in surprise, and his gaze turned slightly quizzical although amusement still predominated. "Now that **is** an odd question! Do you not?"

  
  


"I suppose I am too prosaic to do so whole-heartedly."

  
  


"I would think that those who lived through the reign of the Dark and the destruction of the Ring would have little trouble believing in fantastic beings, and it's us poor souls who are stuck with this boring world you've left us that would question their existence," replied Hirgilron lightly.

  
  


"That is very similar to what someone else said to me on the subject," she muttered, half under her breath.

  
  


His head went to one side, the curiosity in his regard deepening. "Mother," he said, "I talk to **trees**. Of course I believe that the Valar exist."

  
  


"Is that something the Elf lords taught you?"

  
  


He stilled, all amusement fading, and his scrutiny became more intense. "You are full of strange inquiries today."

  
  


"I suppose I am possessed by a mood as fey as that of any Elf."

  
  


"So I see," he murmured as he glanced back toward the antechamber which, while tidied, still bore the scars of Terisda's temper. He stepped toward her, and took her hands in his. "Mother, you must know that you are welcome here for as long as you care to stay. It will be years before Culumaldas is fit for you to live in."

  
  


"It was years before your father's manor was fit to live in after the damage done to it, and some of the lords of Minas Tirith would still find this place very rough. Yet we manage," she returned dryly. "Do you know, you are older now than I was when I wed Hirgon? Any bride you bring here will much prefer to have your old mother far away, I assure you."

  
  


"You are not old!" he protested, laughing. "You set all hearts aflutter when you go to court at Minas Tirith!"

  
  


"That is in dread of new scandals my errant tongue might start."

  
  


"Perhaps, a little. In any case, I have no thoughts of marriage now. I must set your lands in order before I am free to consider such a change in my own life."

  
  


"A convenient excuse."

  
  


The rakish grin flashed, and again Terisda found memories of her first husband brought to her mind. "Isn't it, though?"

  
  


Terisda freed one of her hands to touch her son's face. "You are very like Hirgon at times," she said, not sadly but with a touch of wonder. "I am sorry that he did not know his lands would be in such good hands; it might have provided a comfort to him. I was so distraught after he died ..." She paused over her words, but she did not have the strength for a confession yet. "Having you gave me the strength to go on," she finally said.

  
  


There was open concern on Hirgilron's face. "And grief fades, even though the pangs can still be felt. I know you miss Einar. So do I, but I hope it is not disrespectful of me to be glad to see color about you again." He pressed her hand. "It is always best to chose life."

  
  


Her throat closed up. _And will you chose millennia of it? How could you not?_

  
  


Hirgilron had always been sensitive to her moods. His fingers on hers tightened, and he regarded her with a touch of unease. "Mother?"

  
  


Terisda shook her head, again remarked that she was in a fey mood, and asked with deliberate lightness, "Do we see you at supper tonight?"

  
  


"I will have to stable Goldenrod before I do anything else. She is being walked at the front of the manor, but she is impatient and I must reclaim her before she decides to seek the stable on her own. Then I will need time to clean off the dust of the road."

  
  


"Oh, do not hurry. I am going to have Cook prepare something very special for your first night back, so you have hours yet."

  
  


"I shall have to go away more often, then," Hirgilron returned, his tone as light as hers. He kissed her cheek after another searching look into her face. Terisda curbed her impatience, smiling brightly for him while willing him out of her rooms, and he finally took his leave. She waited until she heard the door close behind him, then counted slowly to thirty for safety's sake. Casting a cross glance over the balcony, she wished she had sure enough footing to scale the oak next to it rather than risk the journey through the halls. It was as fruitful as wishing for wings to fly, and she was not one to spend much time on vain pursuits. She took in a breath, opened the door that led into the hallways, and went in the opposite direction as Hirgilron, hoping to make an unseen exit from the back of the manor.

  
  


Terisda walked sedately through the halls of the manor, greeting the few servants she came across with haughty nods so that they knew not to detain her. She did stop once to give instructions for a special meal for her son's return, but when the servant tried to question her more closely as to her desired menu Terisda snapped, "Whatever takes the longest!" and swept on. Her steps became more cautious as she neared the unremarkable exit that led directly into the forest, but a careful survey of the neighboring hallways told her that she was undetected. She opened the heavy door and stepped through it.

  
  


Once outside, she gathered her skirts up in her hands and sprinted into the dark shadows of the woods.

  
  


\-------------------------------------------------

  
  


Having completed his duties at the stable Eimar was making his way back to the manor house, closely following the main path because it was nearing dusk and the deepening shadows of the surrounding woodlands were a little intimidating for a child with an active imagination. The young boy first heard the rustle of the leaves brushing through the tops of the trees and looked up with surprise because he could not feel a breeze. Then the dull, repetitive 'clomp' of a horse dutifully plodding along caught his ears. Even knowing that his brother should be away for another ten-day, the sounds put together told him whom it was likely to be. Eimar halted and fixed his gaze on the point in the path where it blended into the trees. 

  
  


One of his father's war horses came around the bend. Eimar immediately identified it as Goldenrod, Hirgilron's preferred mount. She was a large, sturdy beast, far broader across the withers than the riding horses, with wide hooves and muscles that rippled with every movement. She walked with her great head lowered, ears pricked forward, for she knew she was close to food and bedding. His brother was on her back, but the reins were slack in his hand; he was not guiding the animal. Indeed, he hardly appeared to be paying attention. Hirgilron's head was cocked and his gaze was downcast. A faint frown marked his brow. For a brief moment Eimar thought he would go undetected and he wondered if he should dive into the brush to avoid the horse, but Goldenrod rotated one ear toward him and nickered. Hirgilron raised his head, his abstract expression sharpening into a more alert one. The frown fled from his features when he saw who was in front of him. "Well, hullo there," he said, smiling easily. "Why are you out and about? Did the stablemaster keep you late today?"

  
  


"I was done ages ago, but I didn't want to go back to the manor too soon. If the governess sees me before dinner, she'll give me more work to do."

  
  


"Yes, I'm well aware of Dame Agnatha's preoccupation with idle hands," agreed Hirgilron. "She was my governess, too, you know." He threw one leg over the horse's neck and vaulted to the ground. "If you wish to hold the good dame at bay, help me settle Goldenrod for the night."

  
  


Horse and boy regarded each other, one with interest, the other with trepidation.

  
  


"She's really very gentle," said Hirgilron.

  
  


Goldenrod picked that moment to trot forward and shove her nose against the boy's chest. When done to her master it was an affectionate caress, but Hirgilron outweighed Eimar considerably. The little boy found himself on his backside staring up at the monstrous beast, his eyes rounding with fright.

  
  


Hirgilron sighed, and slapped the mare's neck. "Rude!" he said severely. He stepped forward, holding one hand down to his younger brother. Evidently this was too much of a temptation for Goldenrod. She lowered her great head and butted it against Hirgilron's back, and the Lord of North Ithilien pitched forward, landing in the dirt next to Eimar. Goldenrod set her velvet nose against his shoulder and snorted. "Yes, very amusing," said Hirgilron dryly. He regained his feet, hauling Eimar up after him before trying to ineffectually dust himself off. "She's cross with me, I'm afraid. Specter is stabled at Culumaldas, and she did not care to be separated from him so soon after they were reunited."

  
  


"I don't think Mama would like it if Specter were here."

  
  


A shadow crossed Hirgilron's face. "No," he agreed. "She would not." He slipped his fingers around the leather strap that lay against the horse's cheek and sternly told her to behave herself. This garnered another snort, but apart from that Goldenrod offered no further protest. She permitted Hirgilron to lead her, the picture of docility. Eimar had to jog to keep up with the two. He made sure that his brother was between him and the horse. "What has been happening here?" Hirgilron asked him.

  
  


"A lot!" exclaimed the boy. "We're having guests again. There's an Elf visiting."

  
  


"Only one Elf?" queried Hirgilron, assuming just as Terisda had at first that it was Elrohir or Elladan.

  
  


Eimar nodded, but Elves did not impress him and he rushed on to the more important news. "And a Dwarf! And he snores really loudly, and he could feel it when Mama was breaking things even though he's in the other wing, and he's looking for mithril!"

  
  


"A Dwarf! Well, that is an event." But the words were flat. Hirgilron looked straight ahead, his lips tight. "Do you know if something is troubling Mother?"

  
  


"Well, of course something is," replied Eimar, surprised that his normally-perceptive brother had to ask. "She wouldn't be throwing things otherwise."

  
  


Repressing a grin, Hirgilron asked with studied patience, "Do you know **what** is bothering her?"

  
  


It had never occurred to Eimar to wonder about that. He turned the problem over in his head, but was forced to admit that he had no idea. "Einda and me are going to Minas Tirith," he offered, a little tentatively. "Not for a visit, but to stay."

  
  


"Are you?" Hirgilron was genuinely surprised. "I know your father discussed it with Mother last year, but she resisted the idea. When does this happen?"

  
  


"Mama has to write some letters first."

  
  


"I suppose that could be it ... and yet... " Hirgilron's words trailed off. Eimar looked up at his elder brother quizzically, then sighed; another adult thinking out loud. Hirgilron glanced down at him, and seemed to come back to himself. "I went to Dol Amroth rather than Minas Tirith when I squired," he told his brother. "It was very hard work. You'll have to behave better than I did if you're going to be at the Citadel! Will you stay at the King's court, or with Uncle Hiranion?"

  
  


"I don't want to stay with Uncle Hiranion!" Eimar was really beginning to regret not going to Rohan, large war horses or no large war horses. Then Goldenrod stamped her big feet and whinnied, and the little boy skittered away nervously. Perhaps there were worse things than Uncle Hiranion in the wide world.

  
  


"Then we'll have to see what we can do about getting you quarters within the Citadel. I'm sure Mother would prefer that Einda not be too much in Hiraldon's company." The war horse stomped her feet again, adding a toss of her head this time. Smiling, Hirgilron patted the side of her face. "Yes, girl, we're almost there. Grain and sweet water await." He then grinned down at the little boy. "As well as a currying by the best groomsman we've got."

  
  


Eimar hoped his stark terror at that announcement didn't show on his face.

  
  
  



	7. Waves, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

****

Waves, Part 4

  
  


\------------------------------------------

  
  


On the path and in the open spaces traces of daylight still lingered. Under the trees themselves, however, it was as if night had already fallen. As familiar as she was with the forest, Terisda was used to finding her way by dappled sunlight. If she had an actual destination in mind, she might have been in trouble. Fortunately she was not trying to go somewhere, but to find someone; while she may have lacked direction in her movements, they were purposeful. Every now and again she would pause, and look into the trees, and offer up a whisper. "Legolas?" Occasionally there would be a rustle of leaves that would cause her to pause for a moment. But when there was no further indication of another presence she would sigh in irritation, tap her foot, then move on another few yards. "Legolas?" The shadows deepened until it became difficult to pick her way over the uneven ground. Frustrated, she came to a stop and braced her hand against an elm's trunk. There was another rattle of leaves. "Legolas," Terisda said crossly, "this is not amusing."

  
  


There was a brush of sound that she recognized as low laughter. Then it was as if the shadows unfolded to allow the Elf to step out, for he suddenly appeared before her, faintly shimmering against the darkness, his eyes gleaming with a clear, silver light. "It is dangerous to be out alone in the starlight."

  
  


For a moment her mission went completely out of her mind, and she could only stare at the being before her in fascination. "Am I alone?" she finally dared to wonder.

  
  


"No." He drifted until he was directly in front of her, and she felt the cool touch of his fingertips against her cheeks. "No, little one; you are not alone."

  
  


"It is too early for starlight."

  
  


A crease pressed near his mouth as he softly smiled. "Not from where I am standing."

  
  


But her purpose came back to her when he smiled, and Terisda shook off the spell being woven about her. "I came to tell you that Hirgilron has returned."

  
  


"Ah," Legolas murmured. He tilted his chin back, head slightly angled as if he were listening. "The trees have been whispering, but so quietly I could not understand. I suppose his return is what has set them to gossiping." He spread his hands out and queried, "What is it that you wish me to do?"

  
  


"I **wish** you would go away, but I doubt that will happen. I can not have the two of you in the same room. Not ... not yet."

  
  


Legolas said in an odd voice, "He looks so much like me, then?"

  
  


"Yes! No ... " and she put her hands to her temples, trying to objectively consider her eldest son's appearance. "He ... he looks like _himself_ , neither you nor me. When he smiles in a certain way, I even think he resembles Hirgon! Yet I do not see how anyone can gaze upon the two of you together and not know the truth." 

  
  


He was silent for a while before he remarked, still with that odd note in his tone, "You said that I reminded you of Hirgon when I smiled."

  
  


She had forgotten that, or perhaps deliberately erased it, but combing back through three decades of memories Terisda realized that the moment she looked over the walls of Minas Tirith to see Legolas smile at the Dwarf had been a pivotal one indeed. "So I did, more fool me." She gazed at him with desperation in her eyes. "You will have him until the end of the world. Let me have him this one last night."

  
  


"I will do as you ask," Legolas finally agreed. He lifted one hand to her face, and stroked his knuckles gently against her cheek. "I am weak around you," he said wryly. "One hint of despair or dismay alighting near your bright spirit, and I crumble! Yet I cannot give you more than this night, Torrey. The telling will be the harder for waiting."

  
  


"I know." She twisted her fingers tightly together in front of her in an effort to maintain her calm. "I will not ask for more."

  
  


The Elf covered her hands with his, and gently unlaced her fingers. "That's better," he said. "It is not easy to be light of spirit when you are cross at me, little one."

  
  


"You should be used to my foul moods by now. Surely we have spent more time at odds than in accord."

  
  


His bright smile flashed. "Ah, but the time we spend in accord is very sweet."

  
  


"You speak in riddles, as always," Terisda grumbled, for she was unable to credit what she thought she heard underlying his words. She cast glances in several directions, and added, "And I am likely to walk in circles, and so miss dinner with my children! Can you direct me back to the manor?"

  
  


"I will take you." He held out a hand to her, but Terisda folded her arms and would not accept it. There was a fleeting hint of a disappointed twist across Legolas's face. He turned away and moved swiftly into the darkness, and Terisda had to walk rapidly to keep up with him. When the lights of the manor came into view she started towards the back entrance, but Legolas stayed her with a gesture and, curious, she paused and followed him. He brought her to the great spreading tree that rooted beneath her balcony and stood next to its trunk, a small smile playing about his face.

  
  


Terisda looked at the tree, then looked at the Elf, and her expression was disbelieving. "You expect me to clamber up an oak? I am not nearly so spry as I once was."

  
  


"I will not let you fall, faint-hearted one." 

  
  


Terisda sighed in resignation, for she considered him impervious to reason. If she tried to argue he was like to simply sling her over one shoulder and shoot up the tree with her hanging off his back like so much baggage. "Very well," she said crossly. 

  
  


This time when he held out his hand she was obliged to take it. He pulled her close and tucked her neatly under one arm, and the next thing she knew she was well above the ground. Startled, she clutched at him. Legolas chuckled and whispered something in Elvish, and the oak gently swayed around them. "It is insulted that you think so poorly of it!" he told her, laughing. "It knows you and will not let you fall if it can prevent it. Less squirming on your part might help."

  
  


Terisda carefully untangled one hand from the cloth of his tunic and, as wary as her youngest son around a war horse, cautiously patted the nearest bit of bark. "Nice, ah, tree," she said faintly. She mock-scowled at Legolas. "Bad Elf."

  
  


"True," agreed Legolas. He stroked the rough bark of the oak under his hand. "They **are** good trees here. I would not like to see them needlessly destroyed."

  
  


"Nor I." 

  
  


"And if Aragorn orders the land to be cleared, what will you do?"

  
  


"Box his ears," Terisda answered promptly, and Legolas again laughed his soft laugh. "It will be up to Hirgilron," she started, but she caught herself. "Or perhaps it will be up to Hiranion to discuss it with the King, in which case the King will not need to ask more than once. I know that some of the nobles occasionally lament that this land is too sparsely populated. Is that why you are here?"

  
  


"I am here because of what I told you. When Aragorn heard I was to travel north, he gave me this charge as well, with Gimli as a companion. The fact he set the task to an Elf, however, should tell you where his mind lies on this."

  
  


"Then I will not concern myself with what the King might or might not do. There are other matters more near to me, not the least of which is getting out of this tree."

  
  


His smile flashed again, and she found herself wishing that he would not smile so much because each one brought a small stab of new recognition that she did not wish to acknowledge. He ran lightly up the tree, pausing to shift Terisda across his arms. He contemplated the distance to her balcony, and she mistrusted the gleam in his eyes. "You're going to jump, aren't you?"

  
  


"Just a tiny little leap," he protested. "Much smaller than the one I took when we went out your window in Minas Tirith! You will not even feel it."

  
  


"I must trust the oak to catch me should you slip?" she demanded sarcastically. The oak shivered again, and she startled a little, first afraid that she had offended it, then amazed that she was worried about insulting a tree. But Legolas hesitated, his head turning as his alert gaze focused into the distance. "What is it?"

  
  


"Travelers along the path from the stables. Are the stablehands returning from their duties?"

  
  


"Even in daylight I cannot see the path from here, let alone who treads it."

  
  


"Ah, it is young Eimar. Should he be out after sun down? Although he is with --" and Legolas suddenly sucked in a breath, his eyes widening and a strange noise sounding deep in his throat. He averted his face.

  
  


"Legolas?" Terisda dared to touch his smooth cheek, then snatched her hand away for there was moisture on his skin that owed nothing to the dampening air. "It's Hirgilron, isn't it?" she asked, although it was more statement than question.

  
  


He nodded, but would not turn his gaze back to her. "Ai, so bright--! I did not know it would hurt so to look upon him."

  
  


"I told you that you might find him so."

  
  


"He does not hold a candle to you, little one. But there is a reflection of my own spirit in him, and it pains me that I have not been here to nurture it."

  
  


"He talks to trees, or at least says he does," Terisda offered reluctantly after a long silence. "And he has been --" she paused for a moment, then continued in a strained voice, as if she had just come to a realization "--he has been fostered by the Elf lords. Hasn't he?" Legolas gave her no reply, and after a while she sighed. "Legolas, I do not mean to be unkind, but I have this one last night with my children before ... before everything changes. I do not care to spend any more of it lounging about in an oak tree."

  
  


His arms tightened around her, and he turned his head back, but it was to tuck his face against her neck. She was startled but feared to make any move herself lest she overbalance them, and so remained still as his breath stroked softly against her skin. Finally he raised his face to gaze into her own, but she could not read anything in his eyes. There was a sensation of shifting before she was swung feet-first over the balustrade. Legolas perched over her for an instant. He reached down to lightly touch one of his long fingers to the tip of her nose. Then the shadows took him, and she could no longer see him.

  
  


\----------------------

  
  


Gimli the Dwarf was inured to the quick entrances and exits of Elves, so he was not much surprised when an empty window in his guest quarters suddenly housed a kneeling Elf. "Done conversing with the trees, Master Elf? I suppose they are all aflutter over the return of the young Lord."

  
  


It was meant as no more than a gentle gibe, but Legolas responded seriously. "The trees are not talking to me at the moment."

  
  


"Well, the servants certainly have been twittering like birds! There has been much fetching and carrying, and earnest fretting over the relative quality of ales. If the gossip is to be believed, it will be a feast worthy of memory this eve! I am relieved to see that you remember 'supper' exists."

  
  


"I do not sup tonight."

  
  


Pausing in his preparations, Gimli directed a frown toward his friend. "The young ones think nothing of your comings and goings, but I would not like my first speech with Lord Hirgilron to be an apology for the rudeness of Elves."

  
  


"Apparently he is used to Elvish whims." There was a cool note in Legolas's voice. "Gimli, do not go."

  
  


"Do you expect me to live on air as you do?" scoffed the Dwarf. "More to the point, do you expect me to forgo roast venison and good ale?"

  
  


"Please."

  
  


Concerned, Gimli approached his friend in an attempt to discern the expression on the Elf's face, but Legolas folded his legs against his chest, wrapping his arms around them and dropping his forehead to his knees. Gimli touched his thick fingers to the bracer on the Elf's wrist. "You have had words with the Lady." 

  
  


The Elf shook his fair head, but would not raise his face to look at the Dwarf. "Nay, I think that we are in accord for now. But it is the first night home for her son, and she will not appreciate any intrusion from either of us."

  
  


"Eh," grumbled the Dwarf, "I suppose cold venison for breakfast is more than we've had many a time, and is better than naught. But I do not like forgoing quality ale, Legolas!"

  
  


At that Legolas smiled, and finally raised his head, and the Dwarf could see faint silvery tracks marking the smooth skin near his eyes. "I will fetch you some, dear Gimli, and perhaps I may even filch some meat while I am at it. I will appreciate your company this night, but there is no need for you to starve! Besides, there are few things more difficult than trying to converse with a hungry Dwarf, unless it be to converse with a hungry hobbit."

  
  


Having seen the other's face, however, Gimli was in no mood to be put off by light words. "Legolas, why are we here?"

  
  


"You are here because Aragorn asked you to come with me, my friend. My reasons are more complicated, but I cannot discuss them with you. I am sorry."

  
  


Gimli gazed upon the Elf for another moment, then nodded and turned away. "You will be more than sorry if you do not provide suitable vittles for me, Legolas," he said, gruffly. "You will have to talk over my rumbling stomach, which will probably make you hoarse for a ten-day."

  
  


"Since I have perfected the technique of quiet conversation over your snoring, I do not think that will be so great a challenge."

  
  


"I do not snore!" protested Gimli, very indignant.

  
  


Legolas laughed, and vanished from the window without appearing to gain his feet first, but was soon returned with food and ale that the Dwarf allowed was passable. And they spoke long into the night, about their progress on the survey and the path they might take to the mountains south of the battle plain of Dagorlad and other such topics as their long friendship might suggest, but of the other inhabitants of the manor no word further was said.

  
  


\----------------------------------

  
  


When the brothers entered the manor they discovered Einda in the entrance hall awaiting them, for news had quickly spread that the Lord of the land was returned. She squealed with delight when she saw Hirgilron and flung herself into his arms. He laughed and swung her around (which Eimar thought was very unfair, because Hirgilron hadn't done that to him and it looked like fun), then set her down and held her at arm's length. "You look very colorful this eve," he told her, smiling.

  
  


Einda nodded. "Mama's put off her mourning clothes."

  
  


"Yes, I've spoken to her already. I'm glad to see that you are also looking brighter."

  
  


"How proceeds the work at Culumaldas?"

  
  


"Slowly as ever. Unlike the manor here, Culumaldas did not have a stone left intact when the orcs were done. It is taking a great deal of time to quarry and import new building stones."

  
  


Einda sniffed. "Mama should be making the buildings out of wood. There is plenty there. It would have all been done a decade ago if she would just be practical."

  
  


"She is trying to recreate what was present previously in honor of our grandparents, who defended it so well that the orcs felt they had to completely obliterate it," replied Hirgilron mildly. "Their sacrifice is what gave Mother and my father the time to escape, for which we three should be very grateful. Besides, this will be a very empty place if all of you remove to Culumaldas. You don't want your old brother to live here by himself, a lonely and desperate bachelor? Ah, but you are deserting me, aren't you? At least Mother will remain while you two are off enjoying yourselves in Minas Tirith!"

  
  


"This place would not be so empty if you would get married. Hiraldon was saying that you have a duty to do so, and that was a year ago."

  
  


"My loving cousin has a number of business partners with daughters of marriageable age," said Hirgilron dryly. "And as old and decrepit as I am, **he** is older still."

  
  


As Einda begin to splutter in indignation that Hiraldon was **not** old and decrepit, Einar piped up with an issue he thought was much more important. "I think **she** should get the horses and **I** should get Culumaldas."

  
  


This set Einda's spluttering off into another direction. "Who says **you** are going to get the horses? You don't even like horses!"

  
  


"I curried Goldenrod just now. Well, the parts I could reach..."

  
  


"Anyway, you wouldn't know what to do with Culumaldas if you did have it!"

  
  


"I wouldn't chop all the trees down, that's for sure."

  
  


Einda turned her nose into the air, which she often did when she felt the need to display her superiority to her little brother. "The land will be better for people and horses if it's cleared. Then I would get to keep the horses as well as have a grand estate!"

  
  


"Mother might have a thing or two to say about any 'grand estate' plans you harbor," cautioned Hirgilron in amusement.

  
  


Einda caught herself. "Well, of course, it still belongs to her. I mean, later. Not that I'm in a hurry. I mean..."

  
  


"We'll all assume that you wish Mother no ill will," Hirgilron soothed her. Eimar appeared ready to dispute that, but Hirgilron forestalled further argument by taking Einda's upper arm, and gently pinching the lobe of Eimar's ear, which caught the attention of both of his younger siblings. "I want you two to be on your very best behavior this eve," he told them. "There is something momentous troubling Mother, and I do not wish either of you to add to it." They were both surprised at his stern words for he was not one to often exert his authority over them, and promised to behave themselves, although each of them privately thought that their sibling would no doubt make it impossible to keep the vow. Releasing them, Hirgilron instructed them to clean up for dinner and went to do so himself.

  
  


So that when Terisda came down for the meal she found all three of her children sitting sedately at the table in the main hall, well-scrubbed and wearing clothes normally reserved for the visits of nobles. And she was much moved, although what she said was that they should have Cook roast venison more often if it forced her offspring into civilized behavior. Einda looked piqued, and Eimar giggled. Hirgilron leapt to his feet and drew out her chair with a flourish, bowing over her hand in a courtly manner that nearly undid Eimar.

  
  


And if Terisda's conversation was a touched forced, or if there was a hint of desperation in her manner, Einda was too self-absorbed, and Eimar too young, to notice. But Hirgilron was neither a child nor consumed by his own thoughts, and he noted it well.


	8. Truth and Variations, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

**Truth and Variations, Part 1**

  


\----------------------------------

  
  


Hirgilron was normally one to counsel himself, but he was not above seeking advice when he deemed it necessary. When he awoke early the morning after that disturbing formal meal with his mother and siblings, it was with an echo of his younger brother's words in his ears. _There's an Elf visiting_ , Eimar had said, but in his concern over his mother Hirgilron had not paid much attention. Now he sat straight up in bed, fully awake, wondering why he had not immediately sought out Elrohir (for Hirgilron was sure the Elf in question must be Elrohir) to see if he had some insight into Terisda's peculiar mood. Rising, he dressed hurriedly, pulling on the stained green and brown leathers that were the despair of his uncle.

  
  


But the rooms normally reserved for the Elf lords were empty. More than empty, they were sterile, exhibiting no trace of recent habitation. Puzzled, Hirgilron investigated a wardrobe in one of the bedrooms and a chest of drawers in the antechamber before being forced to admit that all evidence indicated no inhabitants, Elvish or otherwise. Had his mother and Elrohir quarreled, and the Elf sought quarters outside the manor? He dismissed the thought almost as soon as it occurred. He had never seen any hint of acrimony between the Elf lords and his mother, although he was forced to admit he might not recognize an acrimonious Elf even should he be confronted with one. 

  
  


He was stepping back into the hallway when the creak of a closing door sounded. Thinking that perhaps the Elf lord (whichever one it happened to be) had taken another of the rooms in this wing, Hirgilron started toward the sound. He was considerably startled when he turned the corner to meet someone who was much shorter, and certainly far more hirsute, than any Elf he had ever seen. 

  
  
__

That's right -- Eimar said there was a Dwarf visiting as well.

  
  


He had never seen a Dwarf before, for though Hirgilron had squired in the great city of Dol Amroth where those of all races were welcomed, even there the Dwarven folk were not common visitors. The Dwarf gave him a brief glance and a courteous nod, no doubt assuming he was one of the estate's woodsmen on his way to begin his daily duties. Hirgilron returned the nod with a small smile. "Good day to you, Master Dwarf."

  
  


At hearing his speech the Dwarf stopped to give him a closer look, then he offered a formal bow. "Your pardon, lord! You will think me a poor guest for being so curt with you upon our first meeting."

  
  


Hirgilron made a deprecating gesture. "We are not a very formal lot this far out in the country."

  
  


"'Tis no excuse, lord. Gimli, son of Gloin I am. Your lady mother has been very gracious to me in your absence, but I am pleased to finally meet with my host."

  
  


Hirgilron did not hide his astonishment. "One of the Companions? We are honored indeed! What brings you this far north, Master Dwarf? I would not think there would be much for your kin within the lands known as Gondor's garden."

  
  


"This is but a break in my journey to the mountains, lord, where I am charged with investigating lands once covered in shadow. Even as the rebuilding continues here, it continues in Minas Tirith, and new sources of mithril and other metals are ever needed."

  
  


"It is a long journey for one alone. If you require any aid during your mission for the King, you have only to ask. There are woodsmen here to guide your journey, and men-at-arms for protection."

  
  


This might have been a natural place in the conversation for Gimli to say that he was not alone, but instead he bowed deeply and thanked Hirgilron for his consideration.

  
  


"Have you seen Lord Elrohir this morn? Or perhaps Lord Elladan?"

  
  


"I have not seen either of the sons of Elrond in several years," replied the Dwarf with perfect truth.

  
  


A slightly quizzical expression came over Hirgilron's face, at which point many might have been moved to proffer the information that there was an Elf other than the sons of Elrond on the premises. Still Gimli kept silent as to his traveling companion, and he remained silent as Hirgilron took his leave. "Your pardon, Master Dwarf, but I can not accompany you to breakfast this day. I have been away from these lands for a time and I must meet with my mother and my major domo to see what tasks they have been holding for my return."

  
  


Gimli responded as courtesy required, and the two parted amicably. The Dwarf, however, did not immediately go to breakfast. Rather he remained in the hallway gazing after Hirgilron even once the young lord had vanished around the corner, and the expression on his craggy face was thoughtful. Dwarves were not everlasting but, like Elves, they possessed long memories that did not fade over time. Musings that first came to him during his tenure in Minas Tirith may well have surfaced again in Gimli's mind, although whatever turns those thoughts might have taken were his alone to know.

  
  


\---------------------------

  
  


Even when well-rested and emotionally calm it was a common practice for Terisda to rise late. Given her lack of sleep and the fervent extremes she had endured during a relatively short span of time, it was hardly surprising that this morn, too, found her abed even after the antechamber was bathed in the gentle early light of a new day. Indeed, so deep was her sleep that she might have slumbered on through the mid-day meal and beyond. However, this was not fated to be. Cool fingers lightly brushed her shoulder as soft words were whispered in a language that was familiar to her, although she knew not what was said. Terisda opened her eyes, immediately awake and aware, and was not surprised to see Legolas stepping back from her bed. She propped herself up on her elbows and regarded him warily. "Breakfast is not to be found in this room, Lord Elf."

  
  


He smiled slightly at her, but it was a mere shaping of his lips. That terrible watchful stillness that she associated with Elvish ire was about him, and she hastily wracked her mind to recall how she might have offended him between their parting last night and this morning's awakening. But then he spoke, and Terisda decided that whatever emotion held him in its grip, it was not anger, or if it was at least this once it was not directed at her. "It is morning, little one, and there is no more time for procrastination. We must decide how best to do this."

  
  


"Is there a 'best' way?" Terisda asked rhetorically. Legolas gazed at her steadily without responding, and she sighed; evidently it was fine for an Elf to reply facetiously to serious speech, but that same freedom was not be exercised by mere mortals. She sat up in the bed, pulling her knees to her chest as she gazed up at him in consternation and some fear. "Legolas, I do not wish to do this. I do not think I have the **strength** to do this."

  
  


Reaching out with his long fingers, Legolas rested them against the bare flesh of her arm. He murmured softly in his own tongue, and calm washed over her. Recognizing it to be a false peace Terisda was able to recreate her anxiety, but it was as if a wall had been erected about her fear. She knew it existed but she could not deliver it to her conscious mind. Exasperation, however, was still available to her, and it was plain in her eyes as she glared at the Elf. "It's not fair when you speak Elvish."

  
  


"I know." This time when he smiled Terisda thought she could discern genuine amusement on his fair face. "I also know you well enough to trust in your strength, Torrey, even if I do not always understand your actions. We will help each other to do this thing, as hard as it is."

  
  


She was honestly not sure that she wanted any 'help' Legolas might offer, and found herself wishing that Einar could be present for she thought that his good nature and cheerful temper might be much needed this day. Indeed, she thought she would prefer Hirgon's hard pragmatism to the uncertain moods of a flighty Elf. Even after all these years, however, she was forced to admit that when she tried to imagine her first husband's response to what she had done any scenario that played out in her mind began with a great deal of accusatory shouting. Such introspection was futile; both men had been lost to her forever, and imagining their reactions did nothing to negate her current situation. The most important thing she needed to do now was to prevent the loss of her son as well. 

  
  


Pulling herself out of the past, Terisda shooed the Elf out of the room so she could dress herself. Legolas gave her a puzzled glance but exited to the antechamber, leaning back against the wall just outside her bedchamber door. "How should we go about telling the boy?"

  
  


"What, your Elbereth didn't have any advice for you on what to say?"

  
  


There was a heavy sigh. Legolas said with studied patience, "I only know **what** needs to be done. I am open to any suggestions as to **how** to do it."

  
  


Terisda snorted as she sorted through the dresses in her wardrobe. Almost everything that came to hand was dark; she crossly reminded herself to tell the servants to pack away her mourning clothes. "Hirgilron cannot abide untruthfulness," she said, thinking out loud. "He will be very angry that this has been kept from him for so long! Yet I cannot think of any way to introduce the concept to him in stages."

  
  


"Sometimes softening a blow is no kindness." Legolas's tone was curt. 

  
  
__

What have I done **now** to offend him? Shrugging into a light day-dress that she discovered shoved into a back corner behind many more somber gowns, Terisda said in an effort to placate, "I mean no offense, Legolas, but you must consider the shock that this will be to Hirgilron. He is a noble of Gondor, sworn to defend the land. While he may be an Elf-friend, he has no notion that he may claim a closer kinship to the Firstborn than any other noble of this country." She carefully adjusted the neckline of the dress but left her hair unbound; Legolas had seen it down before, and there was plenty of time yet to pin up the heavy locks before they met with Hirgilron. Closing the wardrobe, she went to the doorway and hovered there uncertainly, studying the Elf's cool profile but unable to gauge his mood. "I do not know what he will do upon discovering he is a -- what was it, Peredhil? -- a 'Peredhil'. I try to imagine what **I** would do if I suddenly found that my parents were not my parents, and --" she made a chopping gesture with one hand -- "my mind closes down. Do you think you would find it so easy to deal with?"

  
  


"If Thranduil was not my father?" Legolas looked surprised, then amusement spread across his face and he started to laugh. "Ai, many find him so difficult that they regard me with alarm on first meeting! I have never been able to determine if the fear he inspires was a help or a hindrance when I brought my folk to the southernmost forests of this realm. I sometimes wonder if dread of him helped swell the numbers of Elves willing to make the long journey from Mirkwood."

  
  


The name was vaguely familiar. Terisda ran it through her mind, and suddenly realized why. "You are the son of the northern Elf king?" she asked, incredulous.

  
  


He flicked her a curious glance. "You did not know this?"

  
  


"No. I knew you were an Elf lord, although now that I think of it, I don't know **how** I knew. Perhaps it just seems to me that all Elves should be lords."

  
  


That seemed to amuse him further. "When you are everlasting the distinctions are not so urgent. The title of 'king' is not much sought after by my kind, and even ignored by those like Master Elrond who might haved claimed it for himself after the death of the last High King. In any case I am likely to leave these shores long before my father does, so it has no bearing on our present situation."

  
  


"Does your father know?" 

  
  


He turned his head to pierce her with his clear eyes, the amusement smoothing from his face, leaving it cool and perfect as marble. "I have never told anyone, Torrey," he said. "I would not, without your permission. That does not mean--" His words cut off, and his head tilted to the side, his gaze tracking to the door that led to the outer hallway. Puzzled, Terisda also looked toward the door, wondering what it was that attracted his attention. Exhaling softly, he folded his arms across his chest, and his lips thinned. "Never mind." His words were resigned.

  
  


Terisda was alarmed; obviously his Elvish senses had picked up something, although what, she could not begin to guess. "Never mind what? Why?"

  
  


He said, flatly, "Because it is too late. The moment can no longer be avoided. It is upon us."

  
  


Just then a perfunctory knock rapped against the door, and Terisda heard a questing voice from the other side. "Mother?" She froze, her eyes locked onto those of the Elf. _Disappear!_ she thought at him, but he remained stubbornly corporeal.

  
  


Then the door was pushed open, and their son walked into the room.

  
  


Hirgilron took an involuntary step back, no doubt startled to see a stranger lounging near the doorway of his mother's bedchamber, and his hand dropped to his sword hilt. But even as his fingers tightened around it, even as Terisda stretched out her own hand to forestall any act of violence that might transpire, the surprise washed from his face, replaced quickly by an expression Terisda could only term as recognition.

  
  


The tableau held for an instant, the Elf unmoving, his clear eyes watchful, Hirgilron frozen in place, his mouth slowly creaking open. Terisda wrung her hands; she could not delude herself into believing that a casual introduction of the Elf lord would do anything to dilute the tension radiating from her son.

  
  


It was Hirgilron who broke the silence. "I had a dream," he said, his eyes not leaving the silent Elf who stood at her side. "It was like none I ever experienced before. I cannot even say what was in it. All I knew once I woke was that I had to leave Culumaldas and return here with all speed." There was no accusation in his steady gaze, only a cool knowledge that frightened her. "And now, I see why."

  
  


And he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

  
  
  



	9. Truth and Variations, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

**Truth and Variations, Part 2**

  


\----------------------------------

  
  


Terisda would have dearly loved to collapse in hysterics, but apparently "hysterical" was close enough to "fearful" that the option was eliminated by whatever Elvish spell Legolas had earlier woven about her. Instead she stood in dumbfounded silence, not entirely sure what had just transpired. 

  
  


As if from a great distance she heard Legolas speak. "I am sorry. I hoped it would not be like that."

  
  


His words gave her something to focus on and, more importantly, a target for her ire. She whirled on him, small fists clenched at her side. "Like **what**? Legolas, is plain speech **possible** among your kind? What **happened** here?"

  
  


"Plainly, then; as I recognized **him** when I saw him on the path, he has recognized **me**. After last night I feared this, but I could not be certain it would happen. I meant to prepare you for the possibility, but fate intervened."

  
  


"Recognized-- He **knows** you as his father?"

  
  


"Yes. Although it is probable that he knows nothing more."

  
  


She threw her hands up into the air. "Oh, that is a tremendous comfort!"

  
  


"Torrey, deceit such as you practiced in the raising of him -- it is simply not possible among my kind. Parentage cannot be concealed among the Elves. Apparently he is Elvish enough that all he had to do was lay eyes on me to know the truth."

  
  


She said through her teeth, "You agreed to the 'deceit', Legolas."

  
  


Legolas reached out with his slender hands and set them against her shoulders, and it was if a dam within her broke. Every emotion she knew she should be feeling suddenly rushed over her at once, and she would have fallen from the shock of it had he not been holding her up. But like a cloud burst it was quickly spent, leaving her trembling under his hands. "That was ill-said of me, little one. I apologize. I meant no disrespect."

  
  


Terisda heard him, but her despairing thoughts were of her son, and though she was sure she lacked any strength to move, she mumbled, "I should go after him."

  
  


A knuckle curled under her chin. Legolas brought her eyes up, and looked into them earnestly, then shook his head. "I will go in a bit."

  
  


Weariness was great upon her, and her words lacked hope. "And say what? He may know **what** you are, but he does not know **you**. Apart from discharging your cursed mission, what can you possibly have to say to him?"

  
  


He gathered her into his arms, and such was her despair that she clung to him without thought, burying her face against his broad shoulder. One of his hands stroked through her thick hair, his fingers gentle against the skin of her neck. "I will say nothing you do not wish me to. Not yet. I swear it, Torrey."

  
  


\---------------------------

  
  


The noon meal at the manor was sparsely attended with only the youngest children of the household present. The major domo came looking for both Hirgilron and Terisda, but Hirgilron did not appear to be within the walls. When Einda went to check on her mother she was astonished to find the door to Terisda's suite locked. In all her years, she could not recall a single instant when her parents' rooms had been barred. Her raps and soft calls went unanswered. She hovered in the hallway for some time, uncertain as to what she should do next, before deciding that summoning the men-at-arms to break down the door might bring unseemly attention to her mother's problems. She slowly continued on to her governess' rooms and an afternoon of genteel, ladylike stitch work, vowing to herself that, although she was sure Hiraldon would not approve of such a ruckus, if Terisda's door was still barred after the evening meal she **would** order it forced open. 

  
  


Perched in the great oak tree outside of Terisda's rooms, Legolas heard the faint whispers as the trees marked the progress of the youngest of Terisda's children during Eimar's walk to the stables, stirrings that only one sensitive to the moods of green growing things could have noticed. He rose to his feet. Glancing toward the manor, he listened intently for a minute, but all that could be picked up by his Elven ears from Terisda was shallow, regular breathing noises indicative of sleep. He had insisted that she lie down; evidently, her exhaustion had resulted in an uneasy slumber. He clambered further up the tree. Once he reached the thinning branches of the topmost canopy he halted, his eyes fixed on the thickest part of the forest, barely visible from the manor. He murmured softly to the surrounding limbs, then cocked his head as if heeding a response. He looked over his shoulder, down toward the windows of Terisda's suite, a faint crease forming between his brows as he hesitated. Then, apparently, a decision was made. The Elf set his face resolutely forward, and began to swiftly travel through the treetops toward the distant copse. 

  
  


In time he entered the wilder part of the wood, but the closely entwined branches were no hindrance for Legolas. Sometimes he slowed to listen, and sometimes he went closer to the ground and sometimes as high in the trees as he could possibly go, but always his movements held purpose and determination. Eventually he halted completely, his gaze caught and held by a form leaning against the base of an old hardwood. It was Hirgilron, who stood with arms crossed and eyes downcast, his face shadowed so strongly that no expression could be discerned upon it. Legolas knelt upon the thin bough of an elm, one hand braced against the tree's slim trunk, and the crease between his brows deepened.

  
  


There was stillness in the wood, a grim quiet that Man, Elf and trees all seemed to share. Finally Hirgilron spoke, although he did not raise his eyes. "You may as well come down," he said in a cool, polite tone. "It's pointless trying to sneak up on me on my own lands. The trees may let you know where to find me, but they are hardly silent as to your approach." He lifted his head, his gray gaze immediately going to where Legolas crouched, all but invisible within the shadows. "The trees always let me know when something is approaching."

  
  


Vexed, Legolas lightly slapped the bark of the elm with one flat hand.

  
  


"Well, what did you expect?" asked Hirgilron dryly. " **You** may be an Elf, but they have known **me** longer." His gaze hardened. "I confess, I have no idea what to say to you, Elf."

  
  


Legolas dropped from a height that might have maimed a Man, landing soundlessly on the mossy ground, his sure feet immediately settling into a firm stance that did not disturb the blanketing leaves. "There is no need for speech, if you have no wish to talk. I ask only that you do not speak harshly to your mother upon your return. She took your abrupt departure poorly."

  
  


Hirgilron gave a very un-elvish bray of laughter that had little of genuine amusement about it. "As if I did not suspect _something_ from a very young age! My cousins let me know most forcefully that not everyone could hear the whisperings of words in the rustling of leaves. But of course Mother deluded herself into thinking it was her secret alone. Almost alone," he amended, looking coldly at the Elf. "She is a contradiction, my mother. She will not hesitate to take immediate action should she see the need for it, but she also believes that ignoring that which she does not wish to acknowledge will make it go away. It is like her, to close her eyes to the obvious and think everyone else does as well."

  
  


"Do not think your mother cannot deal with practical matters. She can be very practical when she needs to be," said Legolas.

  
  


Hirgilron put his head to one side. "It is just possible that I know my mother very well, as I have been in her company for thirty years," he said, pleasantly enough but with an edge lurking just under the words. "You were in her company for ... how long?"

  
  


Legolas did not reply.

  
  


"As I thought," murmured Hirgilron. "What brings you here--" He broke off. "I have no inkling of what I am to call you, Elf. Have you a name you care to impart?"

  
  


"Legolas."

  
  


Genuine astonishment melded with the kindling anger in Hirgilron's eyes. "Another of the Companions?" For a moment he swung between extremes of emotion, finally settling for an acerbic comment that aptly demonstrated his mother's influence. " **Well**. I have already tripped over Master Gimli. I suppose I should not be too amazed if I find Frodo Nine-Fingers taking his ease at supper tonight! Mother never indicated that she knew any of the Companions, though of course my father had a small role in their story." Then he laughed again, this time with even less humor. "Evidently a far larger role in the story than I knew!"

  
  


"Lord Hirgon played a very great part in the War against the Dark," said Legolas, his tone neutral. "Minas Tirith stands today because of his sacrifice."

  
  


"Yes, I've heard a refrain or two to that effect. I've heard entire ballads about you. Perhaps I should frequent taverns more often. Obviously I've missed the pertinent ones."

  
  


There was no indication from the Elf that the taunt hit home. "It was not done lightly, nor accidentally," said Legolas at last, and Hirgilron's eyes widened at his stark speech. "And it is not without consequences that neither your mother nor I intended. You -- you are not entirely what I expected. I did not think I would find you so --"

  
  


"Mannish?" Hirgilron suggested when the Elf paused, a sardonic note in the single word that again showed well the example of his mother.

  
  


"--grown up," Legolas finally finished. "It is as yesterday to me when you were conceived. Among my kind you would still be a child. I have missed much."

  
  


"I have been among 'your' kind, or should I say, your 'kind' have visited here. The brothers of the Queen taught me forest craft, although Elrohir was much surprised that I did not take to the bow. I understand now why he persisted in my training even after Elladan claimed that I would only hit the stable door if it leapt out in front of me and took the trouble to position itself favorably." He turned his face away, and his next words were smoothed of all emotion. "I was a little younger than Eimar is now when I asked Elrohir if he was my father. It was in part the age I was at, I suppose. I had no father and would have liked some voice in choosing one, and he was always more patient with me than Elladan. Einar had been courting my mother for some time, and although I came to accept and love him eventually, I was very afraid at first he would take her away from me. And, as I said, my cousins made it clear that there was something different about me. I thought that, if I had an Elf for a father rather than a Man, they would tease me less. They were both very uncomfortable around the Elf lords."

  
  


"What did Elrohir say?"

  
  


"In retrospect, he was very cagey," replied Hirgilron, the dry note entering his voice again. "He would be happy to stand in as my father until I made up my mind about Einar, he said. He suggested that I not read too much into my affinity for trees. Perhaps I was a throw-back to his uncle Elros Tar-Minyatur, the founder of the line of kings, who despite his mortality retained many Elvish qualities. Also he pointed out that both Prince Faramir and Prince Imrahil were considered somewhat Elvish so it is not such a surprising thing in a noble of Gondor. Even at the time I felt he was not being entirely truthful, although I obviously misunderstood exactly what the lie was." He turned his eyes back to Legolas, and the look within them was cold. "I can hardly wait to hear what tales **you** have to spin for me, Elf."

  
  


"I cannot speak as to what Elrohir and Elladan told you, although I do not believe their intentions were malicious," responded Legolas. "Nor do I have anything more to say about the past. That is your mother's story, not mine. There are future concerns that need to be addressed, however, once you are in a more open-minded mood. I am going to go back to your mother now, because I do not think she should be alone. If you wish me away from your lands, tell me so when you return. If she does not object, I will depart before sundown."

  
  


" **Will** she object?"

  
  


Legolas hesitated over his reply. "I do not know," he admitted. "Ever has she been a mystery to me."

  
  


"Then I am very like my mother in this moment, Elf, for I likewise do not know what I will do. Fortunately I have learned from years of observing her that deciding something important when in a temper is a bad idea. I will not make any arbitrary determinations at this time. I will come and speak with you later. Hopefully my mind will be less muddled then. For now, however -- I wish to be alone."

  
  


The Elf regarded him steadily, but there was nothing in his clear eyes that any mortal could read. Then Legolas nodded once, and was gone.


	10. Truth and Variations, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

Truth and Variations, Part 3

  
  


\----------------------------------

  
  


Stepping from a bough of the oak onto the balustrade as easily as if it were part of a staircase, Legolas perched briefly on the railing. His head tilted as if listening, but there was no hint on his face that indicated what, if anything, he heard. He dropped to the balcony, pushing through the entrance to the antechamber before crossing the room to unlock the hallway door. Next he went into Terisda's room, hovering by the bed to observe her sleeping form. He gently touched his long fingers against the dark hair that lay against her skin, softly brushing it away from her face. Tear tracks were to be seen, stark against her pale skin. Legolas traced the trail from the corner of her eye to the side of her nose, frowning slightly. Straightening, he glanced about the room until his gaze fell upon a chipped washbasin, apparently moved from some other part of the manor to serve in place of the ones Terisda had earlier destroyed. He poured water into it from an equally-chipped pitcher, dipped in a soft cloth, and returned to sit by the bedside. He did not speak but laid the back of one hand against her smooth cheek, and after a moment she opened her gray eyes and looked up at him without surprise.

  
  


"Come," Legolas said to her, "rise, and wash your face. I have spoken to Hirgilron. He is well, but his mood is volatile. It will not do for him to see you so marked by grief."

  
  


Terisda thought that anything that might make her son look upon her with sympathy rather than righteous anger was to be much desired, but it seemed that the Elvish spell was yet upon her because her will to resist Legolas was still weak. So she sat up to let him dab at her eyes and nose with cool strokes of the damp cloth, and tried to ignore the fact that his mere presence was giving her strength. "What did Hirgilron say to you?"

  
  


"He has your temper," replied Legolas with a small wry smile, "and was not shy about sharing it! But little of import was exchanged. I asked him to be gentle with you, and I think that he will be. I said nothing to him--" and he hesitated for a long moment, as if debating with himself what details of the conversation needed to be imparted. "I said nothing to him," he said again with more finality.

  
  


Terisda tilted her head up to give him a skeptical glance, and all at once became aware of how close he was to her. It again came to her mind that the bedchamber was perhaps not the best place to hold a conversation with the Elf. "Legolas, there is no reason for you to linger here."

  
  


He gave her a slightly quizzical glance; it seemed to her that she had been on the receiving end of quite of few of those lately. "Being in your company is no hardship."

  
  


Terisda grimaced, and stood up, and moved with determination toward the antechamber, leaving Legolas with little choice but to follow her. "I do not wish company. I am more clear-headed for the rest and I confess that my heart is less fearful now that my son -- knows."

  
  


"Are you prepared to face Hirgilron, should he return and wish to speak to you?"

  
  


"I believe so," Terisda replied with more surety than she felt.

  
  


As he had done earlier he looked earnestly into her face, taking her chin in one hand and forcing her gaze to his when she would have turned her head. But whatever he saw there this time pleased him well enough, for he smiled slightly at her, and softly stroked her cheek before letting his hand fall away. "I should be the one to tell him of the choice he faces," he cautioned. "In your presence, of course, but the duty was given to me, and I must be the one to discharge it."

  
  


Terisda could not decide if she were disappointed that her son was yet unaware of the doom awaiting him, or if she were relieved that their next meeting would not also have that complication attending it. "As you will. Should he come here, I will not mention it to him. I suspect he may have concerns apart from your presence that he will first desire to discuss."

  
  


After another searching look into her face Legolas nodded and stepped away from her. "I do have duties to fulfill that I have been ignoring, as Gimli will no doubt remind me when I find him. I will return to you before the evening meal."

  
  


Terisda looked toward the windows to see the light slanting at a steep angle through the trees, and realized that was not so far away. "You have said that more than once, and we have yet to sit together at a meal within these walls."

  
  


"You asked me to stay away before. Is that still your wish?"

  
  
__

Yes was her immediate thought, but the word died on her lips when she looked at him and she could not speak it aloud. "Come here first, and we shall see," she finally said. "If it seems that Hirgilron's sensibilities will not be overset by your presence, then mayhap we can go down together."

  
  


Legolas brightened at her words and seized one of her hands to bring it to his lips. It might have been a courtly gesture except that he did not bow as he did it, and the way his eyes gleamed at her over her fingertips made strange shivers trail along her spine. She pulled away and turned her tone deliberately light, fluttering one hand near her head as if waving him off. "That was not a promise, Lord Elf!"

  
  


"You are cruel, little Torrey!" he protested, but he was likewise laughing. "I shall have to live on hope until then. You are sure you do not need me to remain?" he asked more seriously. 

  
  


Terisda rolled her eyes, and again made a shooing gesture, and this time he did bow most formally with one hand over his heart before he vanished from her sight, although the overall effect was spoiled by the small amused smile that remained on his mouth.

  
  


\-----------------------------------------

  
  


Gimli the Dwarf was not very far from the manor house, but because his view of the building was completely obscured by the trees surrounding him he felt as if it were a great distance away. Although he was not lost (for Dwarves of necessity had a very good sense of direction), he was also not feeling very charitable to the greenery, convinced as he was after a long and frustrating day that all growing things larger than shrubs had entered into an active conspiracy against him. He could discern a certain difference in bark color and leaf shape between one tall woody plant and the next, but beyond that could do little to tell the various types apart. Trunk circumference meant nothing when it came to differentiating between trees, for young trees often bore faint resemblance to their older counterparts. Gimli was becoming quite sure that trees were akin to orcs in their deviousness. In his agitation he unsheathed his great axe and placed it upon his shoulder, not because he harbored any immediate ill-will toward his surroundings but simply because he found the familiar weight of the weapon a balm for his irritation.

  
  


To an onlooker, however, the methodical way in which the Dwarf tapped the blade against his shoulder could easily be taken as a direct threat. Gimli was not especially surprised when a voice remarked, "I hope you do not plan on using that axe, friend Gimli," and Legolas materialized near a pale trunk. The Elf seemed more somber than usual when surrounded by plants, although his countenance lightened appreciably as he considered Gimli and his words were easy.

  
  


"If I turn your friends into kindling I may feel less mocked by them!" grumbled the Dwarf as he shot accusatory glances in divers directions. "Every other tree here appears to be an oak, yet there is enough difference between them for me to question my eyes."

  
  


"This woodland does favor oaks, Gimli, but you are correct in thinking that it is not so simple. Although I fear to tell you this, there are at least three types of oaks on these lands, any of whom would be as insulted at being mistaken for another of their kin as you are at being called an Elf."

  
  


Gimli huffed in exasperation. "I do well to tell an oak from a maple! Expecting a Dwarf to distinguish oak from oak is asking a great deal." He glared at Legolas from under his bushy brows. "I trust your abstraction of the last few days is settled, and that you are finally ready to begin work here."

  
  


The other hesitated, an aura of wariness hovering about his manner.

  
  


Sighing, Gimli swung his axe from his shoulder and set its handle into the fallen leaves near his feet, bracing his hands across its head as he leaned against it. "Just because my kind live their life underground, Legolas, does not mean we are blind." Still the Elf said nothing, regarding him with a cautious eye. Gimli lowered his gaze to his axe before offering his next comment. "He seems a fine lad." He chanced a glance up. "Rather Elvish, which I suppose cannot be helped, but fine nonetheless."

  
  


Legolas smiled at the words, a smile of such loveliness that Gimli caught his breath despite his long exposure to things Elvish, for it was not like a smile he had ever seen before. Later he could not ascribe to it any emotion, neither "joy" or "sorrow." His only impression was of beauty, and of his own good fortune at being permitted to witness it.

  
  


The Elf looked at him long before he spoke, and his speech was light. "Let's find out if those clear-seeing eyes of yours can be trained to differentiate between races of oaks, friend Gimli."

  
  


Gimli grunted, and once more shouldered his axe, and fell into step beside Legolas. And although the Dwarf grumbled much about the deviousness of plants the Elf took no offense, and both considered the next few hours pleasantly passed. 

  
  


\------------------------------------------

  
  


Having finished the duties assigned to her by Dame Agnatha, and after enduring a great deal of criticism for the uncharacteristic sloppiness of her stitch work, Einda cautiously approached her mother's door. She listened carefully, but there were no sounds to give any indication what, if anything, might be happening on the other side. Stretching out her hand, she was surprised to find that the door opened easily. She tapped lightly on the door frame. "Mother?"

  
  


"In here!" came a call. Einda followed the sound to the sitting room, to behold her mother at the writing desk. Terisda twisted in her chair and smiled at her daughter, who gaped at her. Her mother's dark hair had been carelessly piled upon her head, and ink smudged one cheek. There were deep circles under her eyes. Einda sighed, shaking her head as she wondered which of them was truly the parent. "Mama, you look as if you were dressed by orcs."

  
  


"I'm happy to see you, too, daughter."

  
  


"I came after lunch, but you did not seem to hear me."

  
  


Terisda waved a careless hand. "Oh, I have been napping! I've had little enough rest the last few days, and it caught up with me all at once." She turned back to the desk, asking negligently over one shoulder, "Have you seen Hirgilron this day?"

  
  


"No. He was not at either the morning nor the noon meal." That was something that her mother and her eldest brother had in common; when they were troubled by strong emotions, they tended to ignore food. Her mother had missed so many meals this past week that Einda was sure her skin was taking on a translucent tone. "What are you working on?"

  
  


"Letters to Minas Tirith. I've finished the ones to the King and the Queen, and to the Keeper of the Keys to secure rooms for you and Eimar in the Citadel, but the one to your uncle is proving -- " she bunched up a sheet of paper with one hand and tossed it to the floor, where Einda could see several other wads -- "difficult. I cannot decide if I should apologize for housing you elsewhere, or present it as a deed done even though I do not know if they will have room for you at the King's court, or -- " and she sighed, and rested her chin on the palm of hand ignoring the quill held in her fingers, and another ink mark stroked her cheek.

  
  


Approaching the desk, Einda shook her head again and bent down to collect the discarded letters. "If you are going to be so careless with paper, Mama, you will **have** to harvest half the trees here for that alone." Terisda immediately looked contrite. Einda smoothed some of the sheets out on the desk's surface. "Here. Practice on the backs of these until you are clear on what you wish to say, and then copy it onto a clean sheet."

  
  


"You are going to run a most efficient household." Terisda's tone, although it held deliberate amusement, was not entirely approving. "What a good wife you will make."

  
  


"Mama -- if you don't want to be alone -- if you wish me to stay--"

  
  


"Time moves on, and you have spent enough of it here. Besides, you will manage Culumaldas better if you have experience of the broader world, even if it consists of little more than how to politely ignore the gossips at court."

  
  
__

Managing the estate will be my husband's duty, thought Einda, but she knew her mother well enough not to say that out loud. "I shall leave you in peace to compose your letters for now, but if you do not come to supper in an hour I shall return and fetch you!"

  
  


Her mother chuckled at the mild threat, as Einda hoped she would, and promised not to lose track of time. 

  
  


Einda had just closed the door after herself when her name was called. Turning, she saw her older brother approach her. Her welcoming smile died on her lips, for Hirgilron looked haggard. Even his gray eyes, normally so full of good cheer, where as hard and cold as granite. "Have you seen Mother?" he asked her sharply. "Is she well?"

  
  


"Well enough, although I wish she would eat more. She's as slender as an elf anymore!" Einda was trying to be intentionally lighthearted, but her words did not have the effect she anticipated. Instead of responding to the humor as their mother had done, Hirgilron's lips tightened and he appeared even more forbidding. "Is something wrong? Mama has been acting strange for days, and now you look -- " she paused, because she suddenly recalled exactly when she last saw him so grim, and why. "You looked like this when you helped carry Papa in, after he was thrown," she finished in a hushed voice. She seized him by his arm. "What is happening, Hirgilron? Why are you and Mama so upset?"

  
  


But Hirgilron seemed startled by her words. He stared at her in blank surprise for a moment, then gave himself a great shake as if physically throwing off whatever disturbed him. When he spoke again, it was with forced good humor. "You make too much of it, Einda! It is only manor matters, nothing serious as yet. Nothing that will affect you or Culumaldas." 

  
  


It was a strange distinction to make, and Einda's mind was not completely easy. "Perhaps we should send for Hiraldon. He is good at business dealings, and could--"

  
  


"You will see my blessed cousin a great deal when you are in Minas Tirith," Hirgilron interrupted her. "There's no need to inflict him on the rest of us before then!" Forgetting her concerns Einda glared at him, and Hirgilron's chuckle sounded genuine. "We are always going to be land rich and pound poor, Einda, but we muddle along well enough in spite of that."

  
  


Einda threw up her hands. "If you would but farm the lands, then we could have triple the number of rents, plus we would have money from produce and timber, plus enough land to breed Father's horses, plus -- "

  
  


"Yes, yes," her brother quickly agreed, "I know, I know; Mother and I are both terribly impractical people. Was she alone when you saw her?"

  
  


That question was odd enough to stop Einda in mid-rant, and she again regarded him curiously. "Of course she was alone. Who would she be with?"

  
  


"Who, indeed?" muttered Hirgilron. Studying her dress, he gave an exaggerated sigh and sadly shook his head. "I hope you are not going to supper in that, dear sister. Hiraldon would never acknowledge knowing someone who went down to dinner in a wrinkled house dress."

  
  


Self-consciously Einda tugged on her skirt in an attempt to smooth it before she realized that it wasn't wrinkled at all. She glared at her brother, her other concerns forgotten. "I was on my way to change before you stopped me! Good day!"

  
  


The smile dropped from his mouth as soon as Einda flounced away. Turning, Hirgilron grimly studied the door that led into his mother's chambers.

  
  


\---------------------------------------------------------

  
  


EXTRA FEATURE:

  
  


This started as a series of emails between myself and poohsticks bridge. "Stardust" is being told by Legolas, which means that just about everything needs to be taken with a grain of salt. poohsticks bridge suggested that it might be interesting to check Terisda's diaries against Legolas's version of events, which created this very tongue-in-cheek exchange featuring:

  
  


  
**"The Very Secret Diary of Terisda of Ithilien"**

by poohsticks bridge and RTT

 

Day 1: Husband missing. Bummer. Met v. interesting rider of Rohan, but not much use to me yet. Elvish fellow by campfire may be more functional. Oh, Battle of Fields won. Go us! 

  
  


Day 2: Husband still missing, but Elvish fellow v. functional indeed. 

  
  


Day 20: Met new King. Nice chap, agreed to look into whole missing husband business. Turns out Elvish fellow a friend of his. V. awkward situation. "Elves make poor stud horses," says he. Jerk. Could have told me that earlier. 

  
  


Day 21: Suspect brother-in-law's interest more than brotherly. As if! 

  
  


Day 10990: Elvish fellow showed up at door. Thought he left these shores. Suspect he is interested in son. 

  
  


Day 10991: Son has returned. Elvish fellow says "He must be told the truth." V. awkward situation. Wonder if he is still v. functional? 

  
  


Day 10992: What is with the trees? All this rustling right outside my window -- hard to get any sleep. Suspect Elvish fellow to blame, altho' can't shake the feeling trees are spying on us. Rude.

  
  


Day 10992, later: Must have firm talk with Elrohir (or is it Elladan? Can't tell Elf lords apart.) Really cheeky of them to foster son without permission. Elvish fellow all pouty and teary-eyed about it. Cannot stand it when males cry; makes me all weak-kneed and nurturing. V. unsporting.

  
  


Day 10993: V. bad day. Awakened by Elvish fellow. Couldn't find a thing to wear. " **We** must find a way to do this," he says. Use of elvish most unfair. Hirgilron v. pissed. Nothing left to smash, am going to bed.

  



	11. Truth and Variations, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

****

Truth and Variations, Part 4

  


\----------------------------------------------------

  


Nibbling morosely on the end of her writing pen, Terisda contemplated the crinkled blank sheet in front of her. The polite phrases explaining her children's sojourn in Minas Tirith to her brother-in-law would not come to her, for in her mind ran the words that she knew she might soon have to pen. _I am sorry to have kept lands that were rightfully yours these thirty years..._

  


But all she had to do was stand on her balcony and look upon the land to know that wasn't true. _I am sorry that my long deceit is in danger of being exposed, but nothing more,_ she admitted to herself grimly. She rested her forehead against the heels of her hands _. Indeed, I am only sorry that those meddling Valar saw fit to involve themselves._

  
  


She knew that Hiranion, too, saw something of Hirgon in her son, and that it softened him in his dealings with Hirgilron. It was reasons of practicality more than his dislike of the long journey that had him send his own son to deal with them, for Hiraldon had only the haziest memories of Hirgon and was not like to be swayed by sentimentality. How much this would hurt Hiranion, and on how many levels! He had been solicitous and protective of her, in his own high-handed manner, and this insult to his generosity would be hard to overlook.

  
  


Leaving the moral implications aside, what she had done was a crime, pure and simple. Hiranion was fond of her in his own strict way, but even if he wished to he could not shield her from the legal consequences of her actions should Hirgilron's parentage become public knowledge. Terisda had no idea what the penalty might be for passing off a bastard child as a legitimate lord of Gondor, but the words that occurred to her were ugly ones such as "mutiny," "sedition," "usurpation." Those were capital offenses against the crown. Against a lord, the penalty might not be so severe. Exile, perhaps. Exile from Ithilien. _Death is kinder,_ she thought grimly, and her dry pen doodled aimlessly against the crinkled paper. The scratching noises it made in the silent room sounded far louder than they actually were, startling Terisda into a realization of what she was doing, which was brooding. Scowling, she dipped the pen into her ink well, resolved to get at least a draft of this letter completed before supper.

  


_In any case_ , she told herself as she bent once more to her task, _I am likely borrowing trouble unnecessarily. No one outside the three of us knows. Well, and the Valar, I suppose,_ she added sourly, and her pen stilled again as she contemplated what she would like to do should any of the hapless founders of Arda be foolish enough to cross her path.

  


In the new silence she became aware of a slight sound behind her. Forcing a smile to her face, she turned and said, "Einda, you just left! It cannot possibly be time for supper already."

  


But it was not Einda who stood in the doorway of the sitting room.

  


As if she were a recalcitrant child who had been caught in the act of wrongdoing, Terisda leaped to her feet, then had to catch the chair when it tipped wildly as a result of her violence. Straightening, she flashed a single glance at her son. Hirgilron's face was set in hard lines that made him seem more aged than Terisda was used to thinking of him as. The strange thought came to her that, in this moment, he appeared older than his true sire. She twisted her hands together, and bowed her head to look at the floor, and resolved to let him speak first even though words of explanation and excuse were pushing at her lips begging to be let out.

  


The long silence stretched interminably before he spoke. "You never said you knew any of the Companions."

  


"You know that Boromir was close kinsman to your father--" and she halted in her speech, and did not know where to look in the room. She returned her gaze to the floor.

  


"Yes," Hirgilron said, his tone a curious blend of cold and dry, "this will take some adjustments, won't it?" He sighed heavily, and ran one long-fingered hand through his short dark hair. She could hear the struggle for control in his words. "Mother, I am no green boy. I have not been in full-fledged battle, but I was a squire of Dol Amroth during the first Easterling campaign. I saw things then, and did things, that even today I do not care to consider too closely. I think I may understand something of what happens in a siege."

  


"It was not during--" and again she stopped, not sure how to say what needed to be said. But she was tired of studying the floor, and so she raised her gaze and spoke as dispassionately as she could. "Neither Hirgon nor my parents would have wanted the lands to go to Hiranion. As hard as the orcs were upon it, **he** would have been more methodical, and far more thorough."

  


Comprehension flared into his eyes. "For the land," he said. "You made this sacrifice for the land?"

  


Terisda briefly considered telling him that lying in an Elf's arms was not so great a sacrifice, but she did not know him in this mood and so said instead, "It gave me a reason to live at a time when breathing seemed disrespectful in the face of so much death."

  


"And the Elf was agreeable to this?" Terisda hesitated, not sure what she should say on Legolas's behalf, and Hirgilron added impatiently, "He said this was -- he said **I** was not an accident of circumstance."

  


"He was not agreeable at first, no. But he went into Ithilien for a while, and when he came back he was more amiable to the suggestion."

  


Hirgilron shook his head in disbelief. "It will take a while for me to adjust to this. I have spent years thinking that perhaps Elrohir was my father."

  


"WHAT?" shrieked Terisda, conveniently forgetting that her original targets had been the sons of Elrond.

  


In spite of the seriousness of the conversation, Hirgilron was forced into laughter at her outrage. "He has a tender manner around you, or so I have often thought. And he did not deny it outright when I taxed him with the possibility."

  


Terisda thought it very possible that she would never be able to look either of the Elf lords in the face again. "I never noticed. Truth be told, even after all this time I cannot tell one of them from the other. Wait -- why did you ask him such a thing?"

  


He rolled his eyes. "Mother," he said, using the exact words and tone when she earlier questioned him about the Valar, "I talk to **trees**. Why would I not look for a father among the only Elves I knew?"

  


"So you did know before today?"

  


"No. It was a ... fantasy of childhood, perhaps. I met other fatherless boys when I squired. There were a great number of us after the War. Many of them had equally far-fetched ideas about who their 'real' sires might be. Besides, Elrohir told me I was not so different as I thought, and when I went to Dol Amroth and beheld Prince Imrahil and his sons, I believed it for a time. But when I saw the Elf -- well. All the suspicions of my childhood returned to me tenfold, and they were no longer suspicions."

  


"The Elf lords were the ones who suggested Dol Amroth rather than the King's court, and Einar agreed with them. It seems I owe them a great debt," Terisda concluded, but the remark was tinged with bitterness.

  


"Oh, I think I owe them a few hard words, myself," said her son dryly. He regarded her steadily, and she was suddenly struck by how little she could read in his clear eyes. "What is to be done now?" he asked, but there was a rhetorical ring to his words and the resignation upon his face disturbed her.

  


Terisda found herself wringing her hands, and forced them still. "You do not know all."

  


"There is yet more?" he demanded, incredulous. "What more could there be?"

  


But she held her hands up to silence his outburst and shook her head. "Legolas must tell you the rest, not I. He will be here shortly. I -- " and again she twined her fingers together in distress. "-- I meant all for the best, Hirgilron."

  


"You always do, Mother," he responded, and the neutrality of his tone reminded her of Hiranion when that gentleman was trying to hold his temper around her. He turned from her and moved back to the middle of the antechamber. Terisda trailed after him uncertainly. He refused to answer her tentative attempts at conversation but folded his arms and looked to the floor, and Terisda was obliged to hold to an uneasy silence. After a while he stirred, and raised his eyes, and when she followed his gaze she saw Legolas standing just inside the balcony doors.

  


For a moment the Elf did not move but looked coolly upon the scene, his clear eyes first taking in Hirgilron before his gaze moved on to Terisda. Upon seeing her he frowned slightly, and crossed the room to cover her hands with his, gently pulling her grasping fingers apart. Around his shoulder she watched Hirgilron's eyes narrow, and the spark of anger there was perfectly readable. She tugged her hands away, stepping back to put distance between herself and Legolas. "He doesn't like it when I do that," she told her son, defensively.

  


"It's not that I don't like it," protested Legolas. "It just looks so uncomfortable. I hate to think of your poor fingers so abused." She scowled at him, trying to subtly move her eyes just enough to remind him of their son, standing hostile only a few feet away. Legolas's face took on that quizzical cast it seemed to wear a great deal anymore, but he turned to Hirgilron and regarded him with slightly lifted brows.

  


"My mother said that there was some purpose to your visit, Elf. I assume it's something other than deliberately upsetting her."

  


"Perhaps you should sit down for this."

  


"I will stand."

  


"I will sit," announced Terisda crossly, and she suited the action to the word, turning back into the sitting room to perch on the edge of the chair, her back to the doorway as if to distance herself from anything happening in the antechamber. 

  


But Legolas would not let her hide. He crossed from the door and took her by the hand, and tried to bring her back to her feet. After a pause Hirgilron followed after him. Leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, he observed the silent battle of wills for a thoughtful instant before interrupting. "I'm waiting, Elf."

  


His mother and the stranger who was his sire exchanged another long look, and Legolas let go Terisda's hand. He hitched a hip against the edge of the desk, folding his arms as he studied the Man framed in the doorway. "I wonder if you are prepared to deal with the weight of this. You are very young by the standards of my kind."

  


Hirgilron said, repressively, "I am not of your kind."

  


Terisda had dropped her gaze to the desk's paper-strewn surface, but at those words her eyes flashed up to intercept Legolas's again. Hirgilron sighed. "I am trying very hard to keep my temper, but if you two do not stop giving each other meaningful looks I **shall** become vexed. After all this time, why the need to tell me this now?" Terisda scowled and directed a black glare in Legolas's direction. Hirgilron followed her gaze. "There is something you require, Elf?"

  


"Since you have learned so much from the sons of Elrond, perhaps we should start there. You know what they are?"

  


Hirgilron snorted. "Wonderful. Elvish riddles. I am not in the mood for such."

  


"They are Peredhil," said Legolas, watching Hirgilron carefully. "Ironic, perhaps, since they carry but a distant trace of Beren's blood, but they are still faced with all the burdens associated with choices made by others long ago."

  


"To the point, Elf!" snapped Hirgilron.

  


To his increased irritation Legolas began to smile, and then to chuckle. "Ai, you are very like your mother! She has ever complained that I do not speak plainly enough."

  


"With good reason!" muttered Terisda.

  


"Torrey also did not know what that word meant when I first spoke it to her."

  


"'Torrey'?"

  


Legolas looked again to Terisda. "Your uncle called me that," she told her son. "Legolas ... adopted that name for me as well."

  


"I have never heard Hiranion call you anything of the sort."

  


"Not Hiranion. Allonir. My younger brother. He was killed in the retreat across the Anduin. Had he lived," she continued, dispassionately, "the lands of my parents, at least, would not have been threatened and decisions that I made at the time may have been different." She looked down at her hands, aware with a pang that she was having difficulty picturing her brother's face. "But I cannot truly say that for sure."

  


There was silence in the room, and Terisda realized that it was probably the first either had ever heard of the existence of her brother. Legolas touched her shoulder softly, and she did not push him away. At length Hirgilron stirred, and spoke. "'Peredhil' means half-elven." At Terisda's start of surprise, her eldest son shrugged. "I have been taught some Sindarin," he began, but suddenly his eyes widened as if the import of the phrase had just come to him. One hand clawed at the doorframe as if he needed the extra support or risk buckling where he stood. "You cannot mean -- I'm not --" 

  


"I did suggest that you sit down," Legolas remarked in mild amusement.

  


Hirgilron did not, but he continued to lean heavily in the doorway, his knuckles white with their grip and his mouth working soundlessly. Terisda got to her feet and started towards him, but the movement was enough to bring him back to some semblance of self. Hirgilron stepped away from her outstretched hand, and his tone was disbelieving. "I thought you meant to confirm that the land had to go to my -- to Lord Hiranion. This I was not prepared for."

  


Hovering uncertainly, Terisda insisted, "There is no need to bring Hiranion into this. There is no need for any outside of this room to know at all."

  


"This is more than deceit, Mother," said Hirgilron flatly. "This is treason. I will not be a knowing party to such."

  


_Treason._ It was the ugliest of words, and one she had deliberately avoided in her earlier musings. Hearing her son speak it so starkly was almost a physical pain to her. She bowed her head, and was irritated to see that she was twisting her fingers together again. Then she decided that she didn't care, and twisted them harder.

  


If he was aware of his mother's distress, Hirgilron chose to ignore it. "The land will still be here, no matter who owns it. We, on the other hand, will be lucky to escape this with our skins intact."

  


"You could come to my settlement in southern Ithilien," said Legolas unexpectedly. "The forests are older and have been less touched by Men. They will remain whole as long as the woodland folk live there, which may be a very long time yet by any mortal measure."

  


There was a decidedly skeptical cast to Hirgilron's features. "And your people would have no difficulty accepting me?"

  


"They would be 'your' people as well," replied Legolas with the first hint of impatience in his voice. "Children are a gift, and Elves are not so hasty to throw them away."

  


"Even if I were to accept that as an answer, Elf, your sentiment is thirty years too late. As it is, I am no child, and you are avoiding my question."

  


Legolas hesitated over his response. "You would be teased a great deal at first," he said at last. "My people are Elves, after all, and wood Elves at that. Men often find them frivolous. But, yes; eventually, you would be accepted. You would even become like them. It may take a century or two, but that is not such a long time to an Elf."

  


"If you offered to take me to the Undying Lands themselves, I can not run from my responsibilities here. Too many of my kin have died protecting Ithilien. I must see this through to the end, whatever that end may be."

  


" **Men** cannot go to Valinor," Legolas pointed out. "But **you** may, if that is what you decide."

  


"Valinor!" murmured Hirgilron, and there was a hint of awe in his tone that contrasted sharply with his overall harsh manner. "How many would leap at such an offer? Yet how long is forever?" Then Hirgilron looked to Legolas and asked a direct question that had never once occurred to Terisda. "How old are you?"

  


Legolas flicked a glance toward her and took some trouble over his answer. "The trees here are young."

  


Terisda rolled her eyes, and despite his ill mood, her son grinned in grim amusement. "Ah, I learned a great deal from Elrohir, but he never taught me how to get a straight answer out of an Elf! Still, by the best reckoning some of the oaks here have five hundred years and more. Perhaps I should ask how many Ages you have lived through?"

  


"One so far," said Legolas after another long, considering pause.

  


"So...does that mean all of the third age? Were you born at its beginning like Elrohir and Elladan, or did you see two thousand years of the second before the third ever dawned?"

  


There was silence from the Elf, and it was clear a more precise answer was not forthcoming. "This is what I was charged to tell you," he finally said. "What happens next is up to you, both short term and long term. To wit: I said that I would leave your lands, if you so desired. Do you?"

  


"If I understand Master Gimli correctly, you are on the King's business. I would be a poor subject indeed if I impeded a decree of the King's. There are ample offenses that we must need answer for soon enough." He looked to his mother, and what he said next was as a death knell to her heart. "I must tell the King."

  


"Surely there is no need until you decide."

  


"It is the proper thing to do, Mother. My world is gray, my place in it uncertain. No color is possible in my life again until I speak to the King."

  


"This is folly, Hirgilron. He will strip you of your lands!"

  


"They aren't 'my' lands, Mother," he corrected her sharply, and in her despair Terisda could find no more words to counter his hard assuredness. He saw her distress, and although his demeanor softened slightly, he did not yield. "It does not matter what the King says. What matters is that I must tell him. Nothing more can be determined until then." 


	12. Crossroads, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

****

Crossroads, Part 1

  


\------------------------

  


There was not much else to be said on the subject once Hirgilron made his decision known. Terisda weighed the efficacy of tears and temper tantrums and reluctantly rejected both as being unlikely to move her son at this stage. Perhaps as his departure to Minas Tirith neared his resolve would waver and such histrionics might be used to greater effect. First, though, she had to determine what time she had left to work with. "You know that your brother and sister are soon to go to Minas Tirith. I had hoped that you would escort them there."

  


"Are you sure you want them at court when this is divulged?" asked Hirgilron incredulously.

  


All Terisda really knew is that she wanted to delay the moment as long as possible, and this was the only weapon she had at the moment. "Yes," she said defiantly. "They ... they will probably not wish to be anywhere near me once it happens. And Hiranion will be there to protect them. He carries far more favor among the nobles of Minas Tirith than I could ever hope to, and should be able to shield them from the worst."

  


"'Uncle' Hiranion is not closely related to them by blood, and may well feel the need to put a great deal of distance between this scandal and his true family."

  


Much to her own surprise, Terisda found herself defending her brother-in-law. "You misjudge him. I understand, for I have done so myself. I am sure that, should the need arise and the pressure at court be too great for them, Einda and Eimar will be able to find succor with him. Besides," she added with hard practicality, "Einda will still be the heir to Culumaldas. The grounds there are not nearly so extensive, but the trees are rare and valuable. If he desires to unite the lands via marriage he will treat gently with her, and with Eimar for her sake."

  


"Unless the King is so incensed that he revokes **all** the claims of your family," pointed out Hirgilron. "There has ever been controversy over the proclamation that made Culumaldas inherited through the matriarchal line. I was bitter about it myself when I was a boy and first realized that Einda's birth meant that not all the lands were mine. Oh, I came to terms with it," he added dryly at his mother's shocked expression, "and now I can safely say that I am grateful indeed that not everything will immediately come under Lord Hiranion's jurisdiction." He studied Terisda's face, which was beginning to settle into lines of anger. "I do not mean to be cruel, Mother. I am just warning you -- even the least of consequences are going to be dire, and if the King is very wroth, they may be terrible indeed."

  


For a moment the blackest of thoughts crossed Terisda's mind -- _I wish I had died during the siege, and so avoided this day._ But she looked on her eldest son, and thought of her other two children, and the moment passed. "I will pay whatever price the King requires of me," she said through her teeth. "I cannot believe he will be so petty as to visit my crimes upon my children!"

  


Hirgilron looked thoughtfully at Legolas, but the Elf did not appear interested in adding to the conversation even though, of all of them, he was the most like to know what the King might or might not do. "If you wish me to escort my siblings, then I will wait until then," Hirgilron said at last. "But do not stall. I will know if you are taking an unreasonably long time to arrange matters. If I think you are deliberately delaying, then I will go on my own. The first you will hear of it is when the stable master reports that Goldenrod is missing."

  


Terisda bit her lip, vexed at being caught out so soon, and was aware of the sardonic gazes fixed upon her by both the other parties in the room. "As you will," she said crossly, "but do not expect results overnight! I am no Lord of Eagles able to waft missives instantly to Minas Tirith at a whim! Even if I finish the draft to Hiranion tonight," and she directed a dark look at the unmarked paper on her writing desk as if she blamed it for all that had happened recently, "it will take a five-day for the messenger to get to court, where he will probably have to kick his heels for another five-day before the King will receive him. Give me a month to make all in readiness, then you may escort your siblings to court and -- and say whatever you feel you must say to Elessar."

  


"You are a shrewd bargainer," noted her son wryly. "It is no wonder you have been able to manage the lands so well! I shall do as you ask for Eimar's and Einda's sake, but I will not delay further." He inclined his head in a manner that included both of his parents and left after agreeing (rather tautly) to meet his mother for supper.

  


"He has a good head on him," remarked Legolas. "It seems he was raised well."

  


"Too well," said Terisda bitterly. "That Rider honor--! I was always afraid to tell Einar the truth, and I see my fears were well founded. He would not have abandoned me, but he likewise would have gone directly to the King."

  


"Hirgon was a Man of honor as well, from all I've heard."

  


"Yes. But I do not believe that honor is inherited, Legolas. It is taught. And it is often impractical. What I tried to teach Hirgilron was his duty to the land. Anything else he received was learned elsewhere."

  


"I would not say you are lacking in honor."

  


She turned to study him, suddenly aware of his placidity, which seemed very misplaced given the conversation they had just shared with their son. "You are taking our imminent exposure very well," she said suspiciously.

  


The Elf smiled. "I leave the dramatics to you, little one. However, if this turns out poorly for you, remember that the woodland folk of the south will harbor you. The trees there are beautiful, Torrey. You would like them, I think."

  


"I do not care to be teased for the rest of my life, Legolas."

  


" **You** they would not tease," Legolas replied, his eyes gleaming silver amusement.

  


"Why would I be exempt when my son could expect a century or two or torment should he follow you?"

  


"Because I would tell my people not to, and they would honor my request. They would not dare do otherwise. I am Thranduil's son, after all; half of them have watched me closely for centuries and are still waiting for me to demonstrate some of the hastier traits my sire is known for. They would not like to provoke me into a display of such."

  


"And you could not do that for Hirgilron?"

  


"Eventually," drawled Legolas. "I am still calculating what his forfeit might be 'fore I interfere. One decade for every time he calls me 'Elf' in that superior tone, I think."

  


Open-mouthed, she gaped at him.

  


"Too lenient?" murmured Legolas. He cocked his head as if considering the problem. "Alas, I am not as hardened as my father! I fear levying any heavier penalty would earn him a millennium of demerits before the end of dinner tonight. But if you insist, perhaps two decades rather than one?"

  


Terisda could not help it. She began to laugh. And if the sound had a tinge of hysteria about, it was drowned out by the genuine amusement she felt. "Ah, now I am even more leery about accepting your offer!" she said when she could, dabbing at her streaming eyes ineffectually with one knuckle. "I'm sure I've earned an Age of abuse for all the times I have called you 'Lord Elf'!"

  


He smiled again, and half-bowed with his hand over his heart. "You, dear Torrey, may call me anything you like."

  


The way he said it, and the way he looked at her while saying it, made her feel oddly shy, which was completely inappropriate for a woman of middle years with three children, two of them grown. She resisted the urge to duck her head or pluck at her skirt, but she could do little to thwart the faint color that flecked her cheeks. "So you say now," she responded with mock severity, "but I remain suspicious of you, Legolas! You will be all wondering innocence should I actually take you up on your offer."

  


He made no reply, but the smile broadened, and Terisda thought that he looked a touch mischievous. But she was unable to tease him further, for a rap came on the hallway door and she heard her daughter calling for her. "Einda," she informed the Elf. "She vowed to return to make sure I ate tonight, and it appears my period of grace is over."

  


"Do we go down together?"

  


She paused, but could not tell by looking at him how much he cared one way or another. So she continued in a light vein. "Well, Hirgilron has had an entire day to get used to you, so I cannot imagine there would be any objections!" She smiled, and curtsied. "I would be honored to have you lead me to dinner, Lord Elf."

  


\----------------------------------------

  


Mindful that her son was keeping a close eye on her and likely would dash off if he perceived any delays he deemed unnecessary, Terisda finished off her note to Hiranion. Any amazement she felt at how much distress such a brief, curt missive caused her was outweighed by the relief she felt at having it completed. She made sure that she presented it, with the other letters, to the major domo in Hirgilron's presence, with instructions that all be delivered to Minas Tirith in a timely manner. The major domo promised that a messenger would be sent off the very next day.

  


The endeavor nearly came to an unexpected end. The messenger was startled almost out of his senses when, at the edge of the estate, a figure dropped out of a tree directly into his path. The messenger was too young to have ever seen an orc, but he had been raised on tales of such and many of his relatives thought him foolish indeed when he accepted a position in North Ithilien, so close to the very gates of Mordor where fell beasts had fought the Army led by the Captains of the West a few short decades earlier. The normally placid riding horse shied violently under the sudden jerk given to his head as the messenger clutched at the reins, and might have bolted as soon as the reins were even slightly slackened, but soft words were quickly spoken and the horse quieted. Legolas waited patiently for the messenger to cobble his wits together, then held up several folded sheets. "You are going to Minas Tirith, are you not? Could you take these as well?" 

  


The messenger gingerly accepted the letters, but paused upon perusing them. The hand was so beautiful it was almost painful to view, but it was also in a script that he could not recognize. "Lord, I will not know how to deliver these."

  


"Give these to the seneschal, or to whomever is in charge of procedure at the King's court. They are familiar with the writings of the Elves, and will see them discharged properly."

  


Awed merely at being in the presence of an Elf, let alone having one speak to him with such courtesy, the messenger bobbed his head shyly, touched his heels to the horse's sides, and trotted away. Legolas watched him go for a moment. Then he stepped off the path and whispered to the nearest beech before scrambling up it. Soft rustles radiated out from the hardwood, rippling across the canopy, and there were words in the spreading murmurs for those who were meant to hear and understand. 

  


\----------------------------------------

  


It was but a few nights after Legolas's interception of the messenger that Terisda awoke with his hand on her shoulder. As if sleepwalking she rose, and followed him silently to the balcony, where he took her up in his arms and ran down the sheltering oak as easily as if it were a staircase. He lowered her to the ground at the tree's base and moved off into the darkness. She started to follow, but it took only a few steps with her bare feet on the moist earth to shake her out of her trance. "Legolas!"

  


He turned back, ignoring her cross demands for an explanation, and swept her up again, and she finally just folded her arms and fumed, for clearly he was offering no clarifications this eve. He passed swiftly through the trees until they came into a small clearing. There was the muted gleam of water ahead, and a faint pungent odor reminiscent of horses, and she knew they were at the pond near the stables. Legolas halted, tipping his head back. "Look, Torrey," he said softly.

  


She looked up and gasped. It was a moonless night, and flung across the sky were a riot of stars, so many it was a wonder the horizons didn't collapse under their weight. Legolas laughed at the sight, and the clear notes of his merriment were like the singing of the stars to her.

  


"Look East, Torrey! There is Menelvagor with his sword girded to his brilliant belt, followed by cool, bright Helluin, and there is the interlacing weave of Remmirath's net. To the North hangs the sickle of the Valar, never setting, a warning to those with evil in their hearts. And look toward the West! This one should be of interest to you: Gil-Estel, the wanderer. That is the ship of Eärendil, the grandfather of Elladan and Elrohir. I wonder why he tarries tonight? Usually when I see him it is through the earliest glimmers of the rising sun as his ship comes back to Valinor. It is little marvel that the twins so often stray from their home for their grandsire roams over the skies following what path he will rather than the set ones of the other stars. The restlessness is in their blood." 

  
__

Only an Elf would know a star personally, Terisda thought, but it was without her usual sarcasm for the sight filled her with such awe that there was no space for her customary skepticism.

  


"Did you know," Legolas said softly into her ear, "that 'gil' means 'star' in one of the tongues of the Elves?"

  


"No, I didn't."

  


"When I first heard the name you gave our son, I wondered why 'gil' was a part of it. He was conceived under bright starlight."

  


"That was not why. I did not name him for the stars, exactly, but there was a song my mother used to sing to me when I was a girl, and I remembered it when Hirgilron was born." Terisda softly recited a few lines: 

  
__

Gil-galad was an Elven-king.   
  
Of him the harpers sadly sing:   
  
The last whose realm was fair and free   
  
Between the mountains and the sea 

  


It struck her as a little arrogant to be reciting a lay that Legolas no doubt knew far better than she did, then it occurred to her that he might have even known the fabled Elf king himself and her words trailed off. "There was a good deal more, but that is as much as I remember. I just wanted something Elvish in his name, and that was all I knew."

  


Legolas said nothing, but his head dropped forward and she felt his lips just barely brush the skin of her neck. He gathered her up and sat with her on the slight incline, his arms loosely about her. She rested her head against his shoulder as she looked up. It was as if her mind was too purified to hold a thought within it, for even after Legolas began to softly sing against her ear the stars were all that concerned her. After a while, lulled by song and sky, she dozed. 

  


When she woke again she was in her own bed. She was strangely refreshed, too much so, she thought, for the excursion to be anything other than a dream. And if it was a vivid dream indeed that left her with dirty feet -- that she did not consider too closely.

  


\----------------------------------------

  


Life at the manor settled into a loose pattern of comings and goings that Terisda and Hirgilron both considered tense, although they did their best to disguise their unease from the other members of the household. Meals were now likely to host both family and guests. As time wore on, however, Legolas's and Gimli's survey began to lead them farther afield, and sometimes their duties would keep them out overnight. Hirgilron also began to spend more time on the lands or with the major domo. At first Terisda was relieved that her eldest son had found so much to occupy his mind until she came to realize that he was setting the estate in order much as one afflicted with a fatal illness might do. Then the words between them became harsher and more accusatory until they began to forestall conflict by avoiding each other.

  


When they did meet at meals the adults were all very careful in their dealings with one other. Hirgilron only called Legolas 'Elf' once at the dinner table, for Einda was so startled at her brother's rudeness that she forgot to behave as a lady and punched him very hard in the arm. She had nearly died of embarrassment the first time the Elf escorted her mother to a meal, for apparently Legolas was too polite to mention to Terisda that she had copious amounts of ink smeared across one cheek. Einda was not about to tolerate more uncouth behavior from her flighty family. Yet it was also clear to Einda that great strain existed between her older brother and her mother, and tax Hirgilron as she would, he never gave a serious response to her queries.

  


Hirgilron did not try to actively elude Legolas, nor did he seek his sire out. During the rare times that they were alone together Hirgilron would try to escape as quickly as possible. He found, however, that he could not discourage Legolas as he could Terisda by speculating on the future of the lands, for the Elf did not appear to have any interest in the affairs of Men and could not be ruffled by reference to them. Although Legolas did not trouble him indoors, he appeared to consider the outdoors his own domain and more times than Hirgilron cared to think about he would look up to find the Elf lounging in a nearby tree. Sometimes they would exchange polite greetings that might or might not lead into desultory conversation, and sometimes Hirgilron would be more heated and sometimes more cold as the mood took him, but the Elf's presence was always impossible to ignore.

  


This morning when the trees whispered to him that he was not alone Hirgilron was on the way to the stables to ascertain how many horses might be pressed into service for the trip to Minas Tirith, and whether the stable master thought that the rather over-indulged pony there might be used for Eimar. By his own estimate he had another five days before they could reasonably expect the return of the messenger, but he was beginning to feel the pinch of time and the pressure of arranging for the transport of his younger siblings, who could hardly be expected to endure the speed and roughness of his usual solitary journeys. So although he checked briefly to greet the Elf with his customary blend of standoffish caution, he purposely kept moving in the hopes that the Elf would not detain him.

  


Instead of remaining safely in the trees Legolas dropped to the ground and easily matched his son's stride. "You are going to the stables? I will walk with you that far. When I went to fetch Gimli I found a note from him indicating that he wished to explore an outcropping of rocks beyond your pasturelands, and so I go to meet him there. It is among the last of the manor grounds that need cataloging, which means that we must needs soon move further north. Although Gimli is glad to return here at the end of the day he is also eager to get to the mountains. Once we set our feet in their direction we will be gone for several weeks, I'm afraid."

  


"Do you return this way? You may well find the lands under new stewardship if you do."

  


"We have not decided. I suspect it depends on what Gimli finds in the mountains. If it is truly mithril then he will want to run straight back to Minas Tirith to tell Aragorn, in which case backtracking through your lands will be the fastest way to the Crossroads. If not, then we should go further West on the return, perhaps to the edge of the Nindalf and from there follow the Anduin until it brings us to Minas Tirith."

  


"You will bypass Henneth Annun should you take that path."

  


"It is well documented. And it will take us through the Fields of Cormallon where lie your mother's lands. I would like to see a culumalda tree once more before I leave these shores."

  


"Many have found it strange that she came here first. If fate had played a different hand and she bore a daughter rather than a son, she would have had to yield this place to Hiranion and her early efforts here would have been in vain."

  


"I'm sure she felt she owed it to Hirgon. And, in truth, she seems content here. These lands are the very heart of Ithilien's north. This is the place she spoke of with the most passion, and where she was the most determined to return."

  


Hirgilron risked a side-wise glance at his sire, a little surprised at the ease with which the Elf spoke of Terisda's first husband. "Did you know my -- did you know Lord Hirgon?"

  


"I am sorry to say that I did not. The first I ever saw of Minas Tirith was during the Battle of the Pelennor. I knew none within its walls save Gandalf and the hobbit Meriadoc. Lord Hirgon was days dead by then."

  


"She does speak of him sometimes, always with great affection, and usually with a certain humor. Einar did not care to hear of him. It must be difficult when your chief rival for your wife's affections is a long-dead war hero. I assume he didn't know about you. I imagine an immortal Elf as a rival would be more demoralizing than any mortal Man might be expected to endure." 

  


As ever, the Elf ignored the small gibe as if it had not been uttered. "Torrey was overset with grief after Hirgon's passing. She often spoke to me of him, so although I never met him I do feel some kinship with him. He was like unto Boromir in looks, she said, but with a frontier upbringing that made him more suitable for scout work than most nobles, and he was not as willing as many to give up hope of reclaiming lands covered in Darkness. This other one ... I know next to nothing of him."

  


The conversation was taking strange turns, too much so for it to be as casual as it appeared. Hirgilron regarded Legolas steadily as he tried to discern the Elf's purpose in his face or posture, as always being left with more guesses than facts. But he felt the need to defend the Man who had helped to raise him, and so spoke sharply at first. "Einar was a good man and did his part in the War, but he was just a soldier and a commoner at that. While Mother never seemed to care, others were not so kind. He preferred being here to being in the cities. Still, it is very different from the open grasslands of his own homeland and when he felt the trees closing in on him, he would go out to the pastures with his horses. It was he who taught me to ride. Not to merely sit astride a horse, you understand, but to **ride** , to partner a horse rather than try to dominate it. I wish he were here. Eimar has become afraid of anything much larger than a pony, and I don't know how to help him. If I put him in the cart with the supplies he will be mortally insulted and if we take his pony she will slow us to a crawl, yet I am not sure if I can trust his nerves to hold after several hours on even the most docile of our riding horse. And I could sorely use Einar's counsel now about -- other things as well. Riders are the most prosaic of all Men; some clear thinking would aid me in my own course." Hirgilron realized that he was standing still, talking more to himself than to the Elf. Legolas was watching him silently, an unreadable expression on his fair face. "Why the curiosity about Einar?"

  


"He was in your life for many years."

  


Hirgilron snorted in derision. "And in Mother's, of course. I watch the two of you together at meals, Elf. I have been tempted to tell you to keep your eyes to yourself more than once."

  


For a moment Legolas drifted, much as Hirgilron himself had just done. "She is as the brightest of flames, and I the moth that draws too near even knowing the cost. Yet I go willing into the fire once more..."

  


"Indeed?" There was open skepticism in Hirgilron's voice. "'tis a strange flame that blows cold for three decades." 

  


"Such a tiny sliver of time, to have missed so much!" mused the Elf. Then, again like Hirgilron, he shook himself out of his reverie and his next words were cool. "I will not speak of what was agreed between your mother and myself. However, I was not without word of you both in all that time. Torrey's insistence on coming here and her determination to rebuild her late husband's estate despite orc raids and myriad other obstacles made her a common topic of discussion among visitors."

  


"I'm sure thirty years of gossip gave you quite the accurate picture," drawled Hirgilron.

  


"You were unhappy here? You were mistreated by Einar?"

  


"No. And no. Far from it. I was not receptive to him when he first appeared, and I fear I tried to drive him off by being very much the brat. He was rather patient with me, when all is said and done. I'm sure it all seems quite strange to you. To take more than one spouse is not the way of your kind."

  


To judge by the lift of his brows, the Elf was mildly surprised by the comment (which meant, Hirgilron admitted to himself, that it was more effective than most of his attempts at taunts). "I would not hold a mortal to the ways of my kind."

  


To observe the other so unaffected by the storm Hirgilron knew must come was maddening, and his words and tone became more harsh. "Yes, you appear remarkably uninterested in all the 'mortal' fuss that must soon come about. I suppose the fate of Mother or my brother and sister are of little worry to you, but I wonder at your lack of anxiety about what will be said of you once all is laid bare. You do not care if your bastard is publicly exposed?"

  


Legolas's head tilted to the side, an attitude that, had Terisda been there, she would have recognized as the one he adopted when he was puzzling over some odd mortal idiosyncrasy just displayed. "That word is one Men use when they wish to belittle each other. It does not apply to Elves, nor to the offspring of Elves." A sudden small smile quirked his lips, and to Hirgilron's astonishment Legolas turned to run up the slender slanting trunk of one of the younger oaks that fringed the forest. He perched overhead. "Ah. I understand. You have shifted into one of your 'moods'. I will leave you then."

  


"Running away?"

  


"I always remove myself when your mother is in one of **her** moods," Legolas informed him gravely. "She seems to prefer it that way. You do not?"

  


"Go," growled Hirgilron between his teeth, and was not happy when strains of Elvish laughter wafted through the trees.

  


\----------------------------------------

  


"You never told me of your brother," the Dream said to her. "I did not know until the other day that you even had a brother."

  


"I did not know you were the son of a King until recently," retorted Terisda dryly. "I think we are even there, Lord Elf."

  


Legolas grinned. They were by the pond again, where they ended up rather often when she dreamed. Tonight he had brought her to watch the rising of the full moon. Instead of stars crowding the skies pure silver light brushed across the landscape, turning everything as clear as daylight, but using a paler palette. She was sitting on his Elven cloak, hands clasped around her knees as she watched light scatter across the water, while Legolas reclined at her side, head braced against his hand as he gazed at her. She kept her eyes on the slight rise and fall of the ripples as she began to speak.

  


"It was too painful a tale for many years, so much so I couldn't even think his name, let alone speak it. Even now, my heart aches to recall it. We had safely crossed the Anduin, or so we thought. The pursuing orcs were in disarray on the other side, harried at their flank by Faramir's rangers and, we deemed, not paying much attention to us. Allonir rode back to the bank, saying he wanted to look upon Ithilien one last time before going on to Minas Tirith. I remember his Captain, Boromir, calling after him. I did not see the arrow that struck him, but I saw him fall from his horse. Boromir said he felt no pain, for he was dead before he hit the ground. He was younger than Hirgilron is now. Indeed, he was not much older than Einda."

  


"What do you wish to remember about him? Tell me."

  


"It shames me to admit it, but I barely remember his face."

  


He sat up and took her hand, and his moon-silvered gaze was cool and serious. "I did not ask you what he looked like. I asked what you wished to remember. Tell me, and I will remember him for you, as I will remember Hirgon, and Eimar and Einda, and Einar too if you wish to speak to me of him. I will carry the knowledge of them for you through all the Ages of this world, and beyond if I may."

  


Terisda felt the tears crowd her eyes, but they did not fall. She leaned her head against his shoulder and began to speak of Allonir, their tussles as children and how his child's mouth slurred her name into something they eventually decided was 'Torrey,' how he rode with Boromir and how fiercely he fought to stay at the northernmost reaches of Ithilien despite the dangers, even after their stubborn parents themselves had been forced to retreat to the most southern portion of their lands. From there it was easy to drift into speech of Hirgon, and of Einar and their meeting in the Houses of Healing, and even how the Rider's intentions had been less than pure when he first tracked her down after being assigned to Faramir's court in rebuilt Osgilith. And tears did fall when she spoke of his death, for as hard as the not-knowing had been with Hirgon, it was also hard to watch a loved one die when nothing could be done to ease the passing. Legolas caught the tears on his fingers, gently stroking them from her skin as she wept.

  


"We, too, feel grief when one we care for falls," he told her softly. "Indeed, in our history there have been instances when Elves are overwhelmed by the emotions that beset them after a loved one passes. Yet it is tempered by the knowledge that a reunion in Valinor will occur; nay, that although it may take Ages, it is inevitable. It is not known where Men go or what their fate is beyond this life, but surely reunions are possible for your kind as well."

  


The thought made Terisda chuckle, or try to; it came out as more of a hiccup. "The reception party will be a bit crowded for me, will it not? I hope Hirgon and Einar are being polite to each other while they wait!" Legolas smiled wryly, and ran his hands over her back in a soothing pattern as she wavered between tears and laughter, and soon the thought came to her that he was making it very hard for her to continue to pretend that she was in a dream.

  


Some notion along the same lines evidently occurred to him, for his hands paused briefly before they shifted to grasp her shoulders. He lowered his head, and kissed her with delicate precision, pulling her down when she did not resist and hovering over her to seek her mouth again. But she turned her head away, and his lips grazed her tear-dampened cheek instead. "Do you not wish this?"

  


His voice was wistful, and she closed her eyes. "It's been so long ... so many years ..."

  


"Too often have I longed for your touch."

  


She was silent, for she knew that her body had altered with childbearing and age. But it was as if the Elf did not, for his hands continued to move on her until they reached her face and her hair and lingered there. Finally she lifted a hand to cup against his cheek. He sighed, lowering his head until their foreheads touched, and she felt his breath against her lips. She moved her fingers to stroke against the base of his ear and the back of his neck. His hands clenched in her hair, and he spoke fiercely in Elvish. "What?" she asked.

  


After a moment he laughed softly. "I would blush to repeat that in the Common Tongue!" he said easily, and she did blush. He brushed his nose against hers. "Do you not want me, little one?"

  


"Yes," she admitted, "but--"

  


His breath caught, then he dropped his mouth to hers, cutting off her words and fears. He trembled against her, and she remembered their first coupling, when he hardly appeared involved at all. How eager did he seem now! "I have so little left to offer. This isn't fair to you," she whispered when she could.

  


He pressed his mouth against her throat, and she could feel the smile. "Am I complaining?" he asked lightly. "I am content with what you will permit me to have, Torrey. I will be more content if you let me hold you this eve," he added in amusement, "but if all you wish to do is watch the moonlight on the waters, that is enough for me."

  


She caught her fingers under his chin, and lifted his face until his eyes gleamed into hers. "The moon is in your gaze," she said. "That is all I need to see tonight."

  


\---------------------------------

  


The messenger made better time than Terisda thought was possible, for he was received promptly and his various requests dealt with more efficiently than was usual with the court bureaucracy. Little more than a ten-day passed before he returned to the manor, handing several official-looking dispatches to the major domo. That gentleman searched for Hirgilron first, but when it was discovered that the Lord of North Ithilien had journeyed that morn toward the Dead Marshes to ascertain if the fetid waters had slowed their creep or were yet infiltrating good land, he had no hesitation in giving the documents to Terisda. There were perhaps a dozen missives which she sorted through impatiently but none appeared to be from Hiranion. So she looked at the remainder more closely, and her breath caught when she flipped one over to behold a seal set with an impression of seven stars. She broke it hurriedly, her fingers trembling, for never did she expect to see any communique returned in this hand.

  


From the doorway of the sitting room, Einda watched her uncertainly. She had heard of the messenger's return and rushed to see if, mayhap, any note from Hiraldon had been included with the other letters, but her mother's grim demeanor held her in place. She cleared her throat, but her mother's attention continued to be held by that which was clutched in her fingers. "Mama, what is it? What have you there?"

  


"Doom," Terisda whispered as she stared down at the King's bold signature. "Doom."

  


\---------------------------------

  


Many thanks to "The Astronomy of Middle Earth" page at www. physics.ccsu.edu / larsen / astronomy_of_middle. htm for helping me figure out what was where in ME skies! Any astronomy mistakes are mine, not theirs. 


	13. Crossroads, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

**Stardust: Crossroads, Part 2**

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------

  
  


The day after the messenger returned from Minas Tirith a small party of horsemen rode onto the manor's grounds. Although they were unexpected the men-at-arms stationed by the front of the compound recognized the leader and promptly made him welcome. The major domo, hurriedly summoned from his office where he had been diligently compiling the deeds and documents that Hirgilron wished to take to Minas Tirith, was cautiously polite as he greeted the leader of the visitors, for while the newcomer was a relative of the Lord of North Ithilien hard words had been publicly exchanged when last they met. "Master Hiraldon, my apologies for not being here to greet you. I was not aware that you were expected."

  
  


"I am not," returned Hiraldon, a little dryly. "Lord Hiranion is concerned about the Lady Terisda and wished to communicate with her. Since the journey is a hard one for him I was sent in his stead. I bear messages for her and for my cousin. Where is Hirgilron?"

  
  


"He set out for the Dead Marshes yestermorn. It is a three day journey there and back, perhaps longer if he tarries."

  
  


Hiraldon rolled his eyes. "Knowing him he will detour to Henneth Annûn, which will easily add another two days," he said, the edge that crept into his tone suggesting that he considered such an action a deliberate slight. "No matter. I will see the Lady."

  
  


The major domo offered to take the documents from him but Hiraldon responded with a cool stare that indicated he had not traveled so far to be dismissed so easily. So the major domo bowed and went to inform Terisda, leaving Hiraldon standing in the outer foyer. It was not exactly an insult nor precisely rude, but it did indicate an uncertainty about the other man's standing within the family that Hiraldon was quick to note. His lips tightened, but he was too well mannered to directly challenge a servant. 

  
  


There were other lines of communication within the manor, however, the efficiency of which would put the King's own messengers to shame. Even as the major domo was requesting admittance to Terisda's suite Einda was being informed of Hiraldon's arrival and no admonitions by the governess could hold her in place. She dashed through the halls toward the entrance, pausing before the final door to catch her breath. Briefly she considered how it would appear if she greeted Hiraldon without chaperones, but only briefly for she **had** known him all of her young life and did not think he would hold her to such conventions in her own home. And if he did, she comforted herself, then he would blame her breech of etiquette on her mother's example rather than her own willfulness. She brushed damp palms across her hair, took in a deep breath, then swept into the entrance hall to greet Hiraldon.

  
  


She held out her hand fully expecting him to kiss it, but although he did take it he kept her at arm's length, studying her with a slight smile. "Don't you look grown up! I almost did not recognize you."

  
  


Einda came very close to stamping her foot at that, but of course such an action would have been unladylike so she did not. Instead she adopted a lofty tone that she thought a lady might use. "I am more than 'grown up,' cousin. I will shortly be living in Minas Tirith attending the Queen at court. Mama had letters from the Citadel yesterday confirming my place there."

  
  


"I hope my cousin will allow me to remain long enough to escort you," Hiraldon responded cordially. Einda heard the words with a flash of intense emotion that nearly made her swoon, but not the enforced civility behind them.

  
  


In truth, Hiraldon would have been very surprised at the intensity of the regard Einda had developed for him during his long absence. His father's wishes were no secret to either of them. Hiraldon was of a practical nature himself and, with no emotional attachments elsewhere, could offer no objections, but he also measured time as a Man of Gondor and, like Terisda herself, considered Einda far too young for marriage. Any union arranged by their parents was still in some far undefined future that he did not examine too closely. So he gave Einda his polite attention, unaware of all that she read into the slightest of courtesies from him.

  
  


"I am glad you are here," Einda told him. Mindful both of the servants and of Hiraldon's opinions regarding appropriate behavior around such, she lowered her voice to avoid being overheard, which of course attracted the attention of those in the foyer more surely than if she had begun shouting. 

  
  


To her secret thrill Hiraldon likewise spoke in quieter tones, fostering Einda's illusion of intimacy between them. "After receiving her missive Father thought there might be a problem. I must say that when I read Aunt's message myself I could not see it, but then I do not claim to know her well enough to read between the lines. What is the trouble?"

  
  


"I do not know, for neither Hirgilron nor Mama will tell me anything! Yet they both have been behaving in a very peculiar manner, so I'm sure Uncle Hiranion is right as usual. It must be something momentous, for Mama received a message from the King yesterday and acted so strangely after reading it I was afraid she might faint! I took the letter from her and read it myself, but there was nothing in it to make the blood leave her face. It was just confirmation that Eimar could squire at the Citadel and that he hoped to see Hirgilron as well for they had much to discuss."

  
  


"Perhaps she is unwell? I do not mean to upset you, but she is not in the first blush of youth."

  
  


"If she is ill, then it is a sickness of the spirit rather than the body. I was worried about her lack of appetite, but that at least has much improved in the last few days."

  
  


"She may just be upset at losing you two for a while. My mother carried on for weeks when I first squired! She was terrified that I would turn out like my brother and join the military."

  
  


"I should not like to think of you away on long campaigns. It has been hard enough this past year with so little word from you."

  
  


Hiraldon did give her a quizzical glance at that statement, but shrugged in dismissal. "Although we were the sons of nobility, we are not quite noble ourselves. The other squires made sure we knew that."

  
  


"How very ill-bred of them!" exclaimed Einda with much heat, raising her voice in her indignation.

  
  


"More ill-bred than shouting within the walls?" queried an amused voice. "Not that **I** should ever criticize such, of course; it is just such a surprise to hear it from **you**."

  
  


Hiraldon looked away from Einda's suddenly flushed face to behold his aunt standing framed in the doorway of the great Hall with her major domo hovering behind her. He took a quick moment to catalog the changes a year had made in her. She was a fair enough woman, although he personally considered that the determination that ruled her life gave her a jaw that was a little too clenched and a facial expression so hard it distracted from any claims of beauty that she might make. He knew that some whispered that she was a throwback to the women of old, although such comments were far from complimentary, but he was a careful observer capable of forming his own opinions. So he noted the faint smudges that marred the skin under her eyes and a wan pallor that he did not remember from before, and thought that his father's concern was perhaps not as misplaced as he originally believed.

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------

  
  
  


"Einda," Terisda commented sardonically as she studied her daughter's guilty expression. Einda acted as if she had been caught doing something that she should not be doing, which as she supposed to be at lessons in another part of the manor entirely was not so very far from the truth. "I thought I came with all possible haste, but I'm much impressed to find you here before me. The speed you must have obtained running from the governess' chambers would doubtless put Goldenrod to shame." Her daughter blushed further, not the usual attractive tinting of her cheeks but the deep brick red of true embarrassment. "And Hiraldon!" Terisda held out her hand, and her nephew dutifully bent over it as he bowed. "How quickly you must have traveled! I was not sure my letter had reached your father yet. Obviously he is in Minas Tirith rather than Anfalas."

  
  


Hiraldon hesitated a moment before replying. "My mother's health is not strong, and the city better suits her needs."

  
  


_When is she ever well?_ was Terisda's acerbic thought, but she stopped it just short of speech. Instead she took a moment to study Hirgon's nephew with a careful eye, hoping to discern some hint of his mission from his visage. Hiraldon tended toward Andina in looks, with sandy hair and eyes that were more blue than gray. Such coloring was very unusual among the descendants of Numenor; Terisda could understand why he so fascinated Einda. One could most see his father (and Hirgon, if it came to that) in the hard, determined line of his jaw. Conversationally, however, she had always found him lacking; all surface politeness, too much unsaid. What Einda saw as impeccable courtesy Terisda considered patronizing. While she did not care for his manner, she was still forced to admit that Hiranion, who had much the same air about him, was solicitous to Andina. All in all, however, Terisda found that she much preferred the bratty little boy who used to make faces at her as he hid behind Andina's skirts than this stolid young man before her.

  
  


Hiraldon was steady under her perusal, and she could read nothing in his face. That did not surprise her, for a merchant who gave too much away by his expression was a poor merchant indeed. "You can not have come all this way to stand about in the hallways of the manor. The servants are preparing your usual rooms. You are welcome to stay as long as you care to, of course, but soon this will be a rather empty place. I've had confirmation that Einda and Eimar may go to court, and Hirgilron plans on accompanying them."

  
  


"So Einda has informed me. If it is not too long in the future, then perhaps I may escort my cousins as well."

  
  


_Oh, Hirgilron will **love** that,_ thought Terisda in grim amusement, but Einda's face brightened as if lit by an internal flame and she repressed any sardonic rejoinders. Instead she turned away, making an imperious gesture that caused Hiraldon to automatically fall in behind her. "Come to my rooms, then. Such a journey is not made for idle pleasure, so I suspect you have much to say to me."

  
  


Hiraldon glanced over his shoulder to give Einda a polite, impersonal smile that, once again, nearly made her swoon before following his aunt out of the room.

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------

  
  


When she reached her suite Terisda asked Hiraldon if the presence of the major domo was required. Hiraldon lifted his brows slightly and replied, "You would know that better than I, Aunt." Terisda breathed a silent sigh of relief and dismissed the retainer before ushering Hiraldon into the sitting area. She was being paranoid with her suspicions about his presence and knew it, but like her son she felt time pressing in and the weight of it was making her view any event out of the ordinary as a potential sign of trouble to come. Hiraldon's rushed journey to North Ithilien was **very** out of the ordinary. "I hope you did not have too trying a journey," she said as she seated herself.

  
  


Hiraldon made one of those small dismissive gestures she so disliked in him. Terisda did not care to think of Einda condemned to a lifetime of non-verbal responses rather than conversations from her spouse. "I am pleased to find the household out of mourning."

  
  


So much had happened that it took an instant for Terisda to understand his meaning, for although she still missed Einar and wished him present such thoughts were fewer than they had been. Guilt immediately assailed her. It had not occurred to her to say anything beyond the barest necessities in her missive to Hiranion, and Hiraldon therefore had dressed very properly in dark clothes that would be suitable for a visit to a mourning household. Her mind was so occupied with other matters she had not even noticed. _It would be good to have this settled before Hirgilron speaks to the King. Hiraldon could not in honor pull out of the contract, and Einda would be cared for. And yet ... I do not think I can stand to tie her to this man just yet._ "Einda much missed you," Terisda said by way of testing the waters. "One of the first things she said to me was that we must invite you back with all possible haste." His expression became quizzical, and he gazed at her with slightly lifted brows. Terisda forced a light tone. "Come, now, you are not so naive! It is little wonder your father used such a tactic to get you here. Einda is young enough that her attachments are not likely to be deep, and he was no doubt worried that you had been away too long."

  
  
  


At that Hiraldon finally did appear startled. It reassured Terisda to know that matters were not so settled in his own mind; perhaps he would not take his future spouse for granted should it go so far. "Is this truly over concern about myself and Einda? Father was convinced that you had finally bankrupted the estates, or so he said to me."

  
  


"I wish a secure future for her, that is all."

  
  


"She has Culumaldas, Aunt. That makes her the most secure woman in Gondor."

  
  


"I am not as young as I once was so perhaps my mind is slipping a touch, but I **think** that, as I am still breathing, Culumaldas is yet mine," returned Terisda with a return of her usual biting manner, and Hiraldon had the good sense to flush. "You are correct, though. She will be beset by fortune hunters when she goes to court. If she goes as a betrothed woman, however, she will have some protection. A formal betrothal is hard to break."

  
  


"Yes, it is, which is why I would prefer to wait until Einda is older and more like to know her mind. She will meet many men at court."

  
  


"That, too, is a concern," said Terisda, although in truth it was one of the main reasons she wished Einda to go to court.

  
  


Hiraldon smiled a little at that. "The Queen is very good at protecting her ladies, which not many of them appreciate since most go to court expecting some freedom from the restrictions their parents have held them under. If you were at court more often, you would know that."

  
  


"If I were at court more often, the estates really would be in danger of becoming bankrupt."

  
  


"In any case, this is a matter for the future and best left to you and my father."

  
  


Terisda gazed long upon Hiraldon before speaking again. "It is between Hiranion and myself, say you? It would be **your** marriage. Have you no thoughts of your own on the subject?"

  
  


"It is how you married my uncle," Hiraldon pointed out. "If you think my brother would be a more appropriate --"

  
  


"No," Terisda interrupted him. "Your brother is ever on the front lines of the wars. I have been married to two warriors, and have had to wait for news on both of them. Einar returned to me after his battles with orcs and Southerners, but Hirgon ... I would never want my daughter to go through that."

  
  


A flash of rare genuine humor crossed his face. "So you find the mercantile life good for something, Aunt! That is nice to know."

  
  


"Oh, don't be charming," said Terisda. "It irritates me when I want to be cross with you."

  
  


The look he gave her was shrewd, and Terisda had the uncomfortable feeling that her attempt to distract him had met with only limited success, and in truth discovery was nothing more than she deserved for trying to use her only daughter as a diversion. His next words were serious, and confirmed her suspicion. "Aunt Terisda, if there is any trouble with the estate, or with anything else, you have only to tell us and we will help in any way that we can. My father and I wish nothing but the best for you and yours."

  
  


She sighed. "I know that. Unfortunately what you and your father consider 'best' remains at odds with what I consider best. Hiraldon, the estates are in good shape and we are no more in debt than is usual between harvests. I am sorry that you had this long journey for nothing."

  
  


"I am always happy to come here, Aunt," replied Hiraldon with his customary politeness. "Since you said I could stay as long as need be, I will wait until Hirgilron returns from his outing before making any decisions about my departure. I'm sure he and I will also find much to discuss."

  
  


_In other words, you are sure I am lying through my teeth, eh?_ thought Terisda as she responded with polite acknowledgements of her own. _Your instincts serve you well. I can but hope you think the lies only concern the bookkeeping._

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------

  
  


The week that followed passed pleasantly enough for the inhabitants of the manor. Hiraldon was much surprised to meet not only an Elf but a Dwarf at the dinner table one night, but he was a natural conversationalist and whatever consternation he might have felt at being in their company was well disguised. Einda's emotional extremes became even more pronounced with his presence until Terisda decided that, if it were not for the doom that must follow, she would be more than delighted to set the little minx on the unsuspecting court just to have some peaceful moments at home.

  
  


In spite of Hiraldon's suspicions about his cousin taking a winding route home, however, Hirgilron did not dally during his journey. He had long kept a careful eye on the Dead Marshes and was well aware of the condition of the surrounding lands, but his last meeting with Legolas had been so strange that he had felt the need to distance himself from the manor. While the long ride to the Marshes and back had given him a great deal of time for contemplation, the results were not fruitful. Hirgilron found his thoughts circling constantly, shifting between a cold understanding of why his mother did as she did and hot anger at the untenable position he was now forced into. He kept coming back to one unalterable fact; silence was treason. Even if no one else knew but himself and his mother (and the Elf, of course, but that one appeared to have no concept of 'treason' and so didn't count), he could not live as a traitor. So he would go to the King and ask for mercy for his younger siblings, and perhaps even for his mother if he felt generous that day, but his position as a lord of Gondor was forfeit.

  
  


As he traveled on, guiding Goldenrod with the barest of touches, the land changed from tall grasses to low shrubs, and then from shrubs to the outskirts of the oak woodland that made up much of his territory. He was perhaps half a day's journey from the manor when a whisper from the trees caught his attention, and he drew his horse to a halt with a sigh. "A bit far afield this day, aren't you, Elf?" The whispers of the trees turned into a rustling of the leaves, and Legolas dropped to the path in front of him. Hirgilron regarded him with caution. Most of their meetings had not been rude, precisely, but nor had any been easy, and their last one had been acrimonious, at least on his own part. "What brings you here?"

  
  


"The survey, of course." The Elf spoke with that cheerful note in his voice that never failed to set Hirgilron's teeth on edge.

  
  


"You have been here for how long? Well over a month, isn't it? Surely any true Elf should have been able to catalog all of Gondor by now!"

  
  


As usual Legolas appeared not to notice the sarcasm and instead replied with a light laugh, "Not all Elves are burdened by a Dwarf that must needs turn over every rock he sees. As it happens, though, the time for longer partings draws ever closer. I wished to speak to you before then."

  
  


"What would you have me say, Elf? 'Good journey,' perhaps? I have reached no decision. I have had no time to think on it. My coming meeting with the King takes all of my energy."

  
  


Legolas studied him for a moment, and when he spoke his tone was more serious than was his usual custom. "When first I came here I asked Torrey for a truce. I would ask a bit more from you. Will you hear me?"

  
  


"As you are blocking Goldenrod's path and I am sure there is no horse in all of Middle-earth that could be persuaded to trod an Elf underfoot, I appear to be at your mercy," dryly responded Hirgilron. "What is it?"

  
  


"Will you travel with me for a time?"

  
  


"You know that I must go to Minas Tirith with my brother and sister soon. I will brook no delays from my mother or from you."

  
  


"Afterwards, I mean."

  
  


_You assume there will be an 'afterwards',_ Hirgilron thought with bitterness. "To what purpose?"

  
  


"Perhaps to see what it is to live as an Elf before you make your decision. Or perhaps just to see more of Middle-earth itself. Which ever way you decide, I must soon go over the sea and there are a few places I wish to revisit before I do so. Some company would be much appreciated."

  
  


"Where do you think to take me?"

  
  


"To Rivendell and back, mayhap. It is where the twins are based between their war ventures, although I am not sure if they are there at this moment. These days there are as many Dunedain as Elves there, so your presence will not be particularly marked. Or to the Fangorn, or to Lothlorien. There are marvels there no Elf should miss."

  
  


"Not to your own lands in the South, or to your father's lands in the North," Hirgilron observed caustically.

  
  


Legolas regarded him with steady eyes. "I am not ashamed of you. Far from it. But I think it best you decide, whichever way you decide, before you are subjected to my people."

  
  


"I will consider it," Hirgilron said, non-committal. "It depends in part on whether or not the King claps me in irons." He waited, but the Elf did not move and nor did Goldenrod, who stood with her ears flicked forward as if she had a personal stake in the conversation. Hirgilron sighed again and asked, "Do you go to Culumaldas?"

  
  


"We came via the Crossroads before striking north across country, and so did not pass too closely to the Fields of Cormallen. It is far from the paths that Gimli would prefer to travel, but passing through North Ithilien without seeing the great trees there is too much to ask of any Elf. Besides, they are lands that should be included on our survey. We should have detoured on our way here, but I did not want to trespass there without your mother's permission."

  
  


"Even if you do not go there now, you must needs pass it on your return. How are you with horses?"

  
  


"Passing fair," replied the Elf. Goldenrod snorted and tossed her head a bit, as if she considered the response amusing.

  
  


"There is a stallion stabled there, 'Specter' by name. I have been at a loss what to do with him, for though he is a fine animal he is difficult to handle. It was Specter that threw Einar to his death. I have heard it said that some Elves may ride horses that scorn Men. I do not know if he would be of much aid to you and Master Gimli in your journey, but if he will consent to bear you then you may have him. It will certainly be far easier to tour Middle-earth on horseback rather than on foot."

  
  


To his surprise Legolas bowed low. "I have been without the company of a horse since Arod, the companion gifted to me by the Riders during the war, left this world. If your Specter is amenable, it would be an honor to have another of the Rohirrim-bred accompany me."

  
  


"He may be Rohirrim-bred, but he is not the same sort of animal as may be found in the lands of the Horse Riders. The fashion in war has been toward ever-heavier armor, and that is the purpose for which Einar bred his horses. Do not expect to challenge the wind with any of his stock, for it is not their purpose."

  
  


"Then I will keep to a sedate pace and enjoy the scenery." The Elf bowed again, which made Hirgilron feel very uncomfortable because he did not think the First Born should bow to Men, and vanished back into the trees. Once the Elf was gone Hirgilron again urged Goldenrod forward, and this time his mount consented to continue the journey.

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------

  
  
  


The same network that had informed Einda of Hiraldon's arrival was abuzz over the return of the young lord. Hirgilron was not surprised to find the major domo awaiting him when he rode up to the manor's entrance. His greeting, however, was unexpected. "Your cousin is recently arrived."

  
  


"My cousin?" Hirgilron repeated in astonishment. He raised one hand to cover his face, his voice muffled behind his fingers. "Please tell me you mean Andomir and not Hiraldon."

  
  


The major domo grinned. "I wish I could, lord. Also, your lady mother wished to see you as soon as you returned."

  
  


Neither his absence nor his conversation with Legolas had mellowed Hirgilron's ill feelings toward Terisda. If anything, without his siblings to distract him and estate matters to occupy his mind, his uninterrupted brooding had hardened his uncompromising attitude. He was in no mood to endure any of his mother's wiles. "My cousin has traveled a considerable distance. I will deal with him as soon as I stable Goldenrod."

  
  


"He has been spending afternoons at the stables since his arrival so you will no doubt see him there, lord."

  
  


"Has he?" Hirgilron was surprised. "Is the situation with my mother so fraught he must perch in the trees like the Elf?"

  
  


"Not with your mother," murmured the major domo in some amusement. "In any case, he has put his free time to good use these past days, although I believe he is becoming anxious to return to his business interests. He would not leave without speaking with you first, however."

  
  


"Then the sooner I see him, the sooner he will be on his way," grumbled Hirgilron as he turned Goldenrod toward the path that led to the stables.

  
  
  


\-----------------------------------------------

  
  


Hiraldon was indeed at the stables, as he had been for much of the week. The manner in which he had been occupying himself as he waited for his cousin's return from the Dead Marshes surprised many at the manor who thought they knew him well. During his first full day at the estate Hiraldon became aware of two things: now that he knew of it, Einda's fascination with him made him uncomfortable; and that Eimar's lack of interest in the visiting horses housed in the training corral was unnatural in a boy his age. It took but a few careful comments to elicit the information from the servants that the young master had become very frightened of horses since the death of his father. When Hiraldon investigated the riding stock he could well understand why. For Terisda and Hirgilron, with their natural seats and strong riding skills, no doubt the geldings seemed easy to handle. For a young boy who was already wary around horses, however, they were far too spirited. Eimar lacked the strength to wrestle the beasts into compliance should they take the bits in their mouths. Looking into their haughty faces Hiraldon, who bought and sold horses as part of his business, had no doubt they would do that and more to intimidate the young boy.

  
  


With Eimar in mind, Hiraldon canvassed the horses that had arrived with his retinue. When Eimar next reported for his stabling duties he found several of Hirgilron's more placid horses in place of the ones that he customarily groomed and walked. "They have had a week of strenuous riding so I expect you to be very gentle with them," Hiraldon told the boy. Eimar regarded him with suspicion, for he did not recollect that his much-older cousin had ever paid him much attention and, like most young children, he considered it suspect when adults changed their accustom manner with him. Yet Hiraldon made no other demands on him but tended to some of the horses himself, and by the end of the day Eimar was thinking that mayhap he should tease his sister a little less over her infatuation. That instant of goodwill only lasted until he next saw Einda, of course, but the seed of tolerance had been planted and Eimar became less defensive around Hiraldon. So when Hiraldon casually suggested that perhaps Eimar might want to ride one of the horses rather than exercise it on a lead, the young boy did not reject the offer out of hand but instead considered it seriously, his bottom lip thrust out as he played potential disasters through his head.

  
  


"If you like, I can walk near his head and hold his bridle," offered Hiraldon, not looking up as he continued to curry one of the estate's horses.

  
  


That stiffened Eimar's spine, as Hiraldon thought it might, and soon Eimar was installed atop the horse Hiraldon considered to have the most affinity with the boy. Eimar looked nervously at the distant ground several times and more than once dug his knees in sharply as the movement of the horse shifted him one way or the other, but the horse was too placid to take offense at this treatment. At the end of half an hour Eimar, while far from comfortable, was feeling less inclined to believe that all horses harbored bloodthirsty intentions and even agreed that perhaps a short trot outside the stable grounds the next day might be acceptable, providing they didn't leave the path. "I don't want Mama to worry about me," he insisted to Hiraldon. His cousin solemnly agreed that worrying Lady Terisda was always a very bad idea.

  
  


And so it was on the day of his return that when Hirgilron directed Goldenrod toward the stables he was met halfway along the path by Hiraldon and Eimar, both mounted on horses he did not recognize. Eimar's expression indicated intense concentration as he tugged carefully on the reins to bring his mount to a halt, for he still not trust the animal and he did not want to do anything that might trigger its murderous instincts. His greeting of his brother was far more subdued than usual for the same reason. "And who is this new fellow?" asked Hirgilron.

  
  


"Samwise, after the halfling lord," replied Eimar before adding artlessly, "He's **nice**."

  
  


"The hobbit or the horse?" muttered Hirgilron under his breath. "Cousin."

  
  


"Cousin," returned Hiraldon politely. "I did not think you would return for some days yet. Eimar has been making friends with my horses. He is quite the capable groomsman!"

  
  


"He's acquired a lot of practice in his efforts to avoid more domestic chores."

  
  


"We are going to the manor and back. Will you accompany us?"

  
  


"Goldenrod will rebel if I turn her away this close to the stables! No, you and Eimar enjoy your ride in peace. I will await your return as I cool Goldenrod down."

  
  


It was a not-too-subtle command. Hiraldon inclined his head without comment, and the two parties separated.

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------

  
  


When they reached the stonework manor Hiraldon insisted that Eimar dismount, even though the boy protested that he was capable of at least walking Samwise back to the stables. But the hard set of Hiraldon's mouth caught his attention, and he realized that his cousin was not looking forward to his meeting with Hirgilron. And that could mean only one thing. _Grown-up stuff,_ thought Eimar. Even though returning so early to the manor meant an hour of grilling by Einda as she sought to pull an accounting of every second of Hiraldon's day from him, it was still better than listening to adults talk over his head about things he couldn't quite understand. He relinquished Samwise's reins and quickly made his way inside.

  
  


Although without Eimar's tender fears to consider he could have urged both horses to a trot on the return journey, Hiraldon kept to a sedate pace. He had as little eagerness for participating in the upcoming interview as Eimar had for witnessing it, and felt the need as well to compose himself before trying to reason with another one of Terisda's stubborn offspring. For all that he was the elder by several years, Hirgilron possessed a force of personality that made it difficult for Hiraldon to oppose him. Yet all of his merchant's instincts, well-tuned to lies and half-truths, told him that something was very wrong with his Aunt Terisda. Hirgilron himself displayed a grimness of countenance that was unusual in him. _Well, except when he is dealing with me,_ he ruefully thought to himself as the wooden buildings of the stables loomed ever closer. Repressing a sigh, he placed the non-committal smile appropriate for difficult negotiations upon his face, dismounted from his horse, and led both of the steeds into the stables.

  
  


It was still daylight outside, but late enough in the day that the musty interior was cloaked in deep shadows. Goldenrod was in one of the stalls, her skin twitching as Hirgilron ran a rough brush over her bright coat. She flicked an ear before turning a haughty eye toward the newcomers. His own horse bore her contemptuous scrutiny with nothing more than a nervous snort, but Samwise shied and balked at going near her to reach his own stall, and it took much coaxing before the horse would consent to be led past the war mount.

  
  


"I will help you with one of those," said Hirgilron, turning from his own horse. "Samwise, is it? I'll rub him down."

  
  


"The stablemaster can do that."

  
  


"I've sent the stablemaster back to his quarters, and Goldenrod is well settled." Goldenrod took exception to the comment, whipping her tail across Hirgilron's face as he tried to leave the stall. Wincing away from the blow, Hirgilron gave her an irritated look. "You've been missing your grain for three days, and now you're upset that I haven't combed out your tail? I'll do it before I leave tonight, girl." He sidestepped her next swish and ignored the great stomp she gave with one massive back hoof, taking a cloth from the rags bucket and rubbing down Samwise with it. After eyeing him cautiously Hiraldon brought his own horse into its stall and likewise began the grooming process. It was odd to hold such an important conversation across the stables with two shifting horses between them, but Hirgilron was determined to have this conversation now and, truth be told, Hiraldon knew he would feel more at ease once it was done. As the minutes passed and Hirgilron made no sound other than clucks to the horse, Hiraldon knew that the opening gambit would have to be his. "You've cut your hair."

  
  


"It has been short for years."

  
  


"I suppose it has been, yet I always think of you looking as you did when we were younger and came here every summer. We see each other so rarely anymore that I have to adjust each time."

  
  


"You and Andomir always said it made me look like a girl when it was longer."

  
  


No one could make such a mistake now, thought Hiraldon. Hirgilron had been a slender child, smaller than the other boys his age, but somewhere along the line he had caught up with, and even surpassed, his contemporaries. Hiraldon was uncomfortably aware, as he had been during their last meeting when tempers snapped, that his younger cousin topped him by inches, that his shoulders had the breadth of a man who did more than pull a bow for sport, and that there was also that in his eyes that made arguing with him seem fraught with peril. His own father said that was like Hirgon, who when he was in a temper had a look about him that made one feel the end was nigh, but Hiraldon was not so sure. The last time he had been at the court the Queen had briefly caught his gaze, and although he had nothing to be ashamed of he quickly dropped his eyes. There was the weight of time when she looked at someone, and few were the Men of Gondor or Anor who could long hold her gaze. Hirgilron was another throw-back, they all said, as were his kinsmen Faramir and Imrahil, but Hiraldon thought the other nobles made too much of his cousin's claim to converse with trees. His real difference was in those eyes, which saw more than any Man should.

  
  


"I know we country folk are boring for you, but I don't believe I've ever seen you doze off in front of me before!"

  
  


"Just judging the situation, cousin. I have never been certain of your moods and since my father is convinced that there is trouble here I am trying to decide if I would be safer standing outside the stables and shouting my questions through the door."

  
  


Hirgilron snorted. " **If** there were any problems here that required Uncle Hiranion's meddl-- ah, advice, then I would consult him. The time for his involvement has not yet arrived." As Hiraldon puzzled over that cryptic response, his cousin turned back to Samwise and resumed grooming the horse. His next comment appeared to be muttered to the horse's mane rather than to Hiraldon. "Thank you for your kindness to Eimar. In truth I have been much concerned over his antipathy toward horses, but uncertain what to do about it."

  
  


"Forgive me, but for someone with a fear of horses even your riding stock are a bit much. They may be mild-mannered compared to the war horses, but most casual riders would still consider them a handful."

  
  


A rare startled expression crossed Hirgilron's face. Hiraldon tucked the memory away in a corner of his mind, aware he might never again witness such an emotion from Hirgilron. "They are more than docile enough, cousin! Einda never has trouble with them."

  
  


"Einda was taught by Master Einar, who perhaps did a little more than throw her atop one and tell her to hang on," replied Hiraldon, smiling to take the sting of the words away. Hirgilron bristled, for in truth he had spent many hours training with his younger brother, but when he took an instant to reflect he realized most of those hours were before Einar's death. Since then he had been too busy with the management of two estates to do much more than fret about Eimar. "Believe it or not, many are afraid of horses. I have quite a few clients who are eager for placid animals, exactly the sort both you and my Lady Aunt would scorn to consider. It was no trouble for me to find a horse more suited to Eimar's temperament. I hear Eimar is about to squire?" Hiraldon waited for his cousin's brief nod before continuing. "Things will be difficult for him then. It will be well not to give the other boys any extra ammunition to use against him."

  
  


Hirgilron's brows pulled together in a frown. "What mean you? Squiring was not a chore. Well, I thought I would die from homesickness and I couldn't wait to come back to Ithilien, especially after witnessing the battles in the South, but I do not recall any great difficulties because of the other squires."

  
  


"Perhaps being so close to battle forced you into greater camaraderie," replied Hiraldon. "More likely, though, it was because you were a Lord rather than just the untitled son of a minor noble. Eimar is no noble, and has his father's coloring besides. He will be subjected to insults that you cannot imagine. The least I can do is make sure that his detractors cannot pick on him for a fear of horses."

  
  


"You are very generous to him, considering there is no actual blood between you."

  
  


"Why would I not sympathize with him? We have similar backgrounds, he and I, as much commoners as nobility and therefore caught somewhere between the two. Besides, I have known him from a baby! I would hope it would not be too surprising that I hold his best interests at heart. Yours as well, although you have always been too willful to see it."

  
  


"I refused to discuss manor matters with you a year ago, and I refuse now. If Uncle Hiranion has concerns then he should address me directly rather than send you in his place. And do not even **think** the word 'lumber' at me or I shall start shouting again."

  
  


"I think you remind him too much of Uncle Hirgon for him to deal with you himself. It is hard for him to be as stern with you as he should."

  
  


Hirgilron began to laugh. Once he started it was as if a dam had been released and he could not stop. Hiraldon regarded him in stark confusion. "That was not funny at all, let alone funny enough to hurt yourself over."

  
  


"Oh, it is a marvel of irony," replied Hirgilron, who in fact spoke in a voice dripping with derisive undertones that further confused his cousin. "Rich, in fact! I know some think of the princes Faramir and Imrahil as reminders of a time when the blood of Elves was less thinned in our kind. I wonder if perhaps Boromir and Hirgon should have also been noted as such! Perhaps they were too Mannish in their manners for others to notice."

  
  


Hiraldon raised his eyes and appeared to address the rafters overhead. "I ever find this place a madhouse. I was just thinking that you are very Elvish at times, and you start blathering on about it! If there are similarities between the families it is not that remarkable. Faramir and Boromir are kinsmen of our fathers through the Dol Amroth line, although it is a thin thread indeed by the time it comes to our blood."

  
  


"No doubt that sufficiently explains any Elvish airs I may put on. Well, that, being raised among trees and the questionable company I keep. You know that there is an Elf staying here at the moment?"

  
  


"Isn't there always," muttered Hiraldon, who was frankly relieved that he did not have to put up with the Queen's brothers during his current stay. The Queen might make him uncomfortable with her Elvish ways but those two were fey indeed, and he could not help but feel his thoughts were naked under the cool brush of their ancient eyes.

  
  


"An Elf or two in residence does seem to have quite the effect on me. Come, cousin," and there was a faint emphasis on 'cousin' that, like most of the conversation, made no sense to Hiraldon whatsoever, "I will brush out Goldenrod's tail so she is not too unhappy with me, then we must go back to the house. Einda will accuse me of all sorts of base cruelties if I keep you away from her too long."

  
  


A flash of discomfort crossed Hiraldon's face before it settled into its usual bland lines, which amused Hirgilron so much that he kept a brisk pace during his return to the manor, and so offered Hiraldon very little time to prepare himself for Einda's onslaught.

  
  


\-------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


It was almost evening before Hirgilron presented himself to his mother in her chambers. Terisda was very aware of the slight, for she knew to a minute when he had first arrived at the manor and that was hours ago. Determined to maintain her temper, she handed the King's missive to her son without a word. He glanced at it in a cursory manner, then his lips pursed as he recognized the hand and he read it through more carefully. Folding the letter up, he tapped it absently against the back of one hand, his brows drawn together and his face closed in thought.

  
  


"So?" demanded Terisda.

  
  


"So," he agreed. 

  
  


"You are summoned," she pointed out. "It is not what he said, but it is what he means."

  
  


"Yes," Hirgilron agreed again.

  
  


Terisda waited, but he had nothing more to offer. "Hirgilron, why would the King summon you?"

  
  


"I suppose there are myriad reasons. The survey, for one --"

  
  


"It is incomplete."

  
  


"--or perhaps he requires our men-at-arms for one of the foreign wars."

  
  


"Our forces were much reduced once the orcs were eliminated."

  
  


"That does not absolve us from our duty to answer should he need what men we have," replied Hirgilron coolly.

  
  


"Be that as it may, the timing is suspicious. I do not believe in coincidences."

  
  


"Nor in the Valar, nor in fate. I know all about your lack of faith, Mother. I question not the Valar, but I admit to having my suspicions about the other two." The letter tapped against his hand once more as he added a seeming inconsequential comment. "I wonder if the Elf lords will be at court? It has been a year since last I spoke to them. I should dearly love to see them once before everything changes."

  
  


For a moment Terisda's throat closed up, for it was so close to what she once said to Legolas, that she wanted a night alone with her children before everything changed. And, while very little on the surface had altered, Hirgilron was aware now and that made all the difference between them.

  
  


As she contemplated the changes in her relationship with her eldest son, the purpose behind Hirgilron's pilgrimages around the lands came to her in a rush. It was more than just taking stock to make the transference easier when Hiranion demanded what was his, even more than avoiding the ugly confrontations with her or the confusion of meeting with Legolas. Hirgilron did not expect to return, and so was revisiting the places of his childhood as he released his emotional ties to the land. Impossibly, her fear of what he might do once at court increased tenfold. "I will go as well."

  
  


"One of us must stay, Mother."

  
  


" **You** should remain, then."

  
  


The glance he directed toward her was sardonic. "A fair attempt, Mother. As the one summoned, however, I cannot stay here. If you insist on accompanying us then I suppose I must ask Hiraldon to watch over the lands. How fortuitous that he arrived when he did."

  
  


"You are **not** leaving him here unsupervised!"

  
  


"Fortunately for you he would consider such very inappropriate. As it happens, however, I have spoken to him already and, while he is obviously very suspicious, I have agreed that he may have access to the books to reassure himself that our problems are not financial. Once his mind is settled, he must return to his own concerns. He can only stay a day or two longer. Which brings us back to the beginning of the conversation, does it not?"

  
  


"Hirgilron, I will go insane from the waiting."

  
  


"You could use the time to make peace with your conscience."

  
  


Said Terisda coldly, "My conscience is clear."

  
  


"Then mayhap you will want to pack a few things before Lord Hiranion arrives to take what is rightfully his," replied her son with equal coldness, and as had happened with increasing frequency over the last weeks the two parted acrimoniously.

  
  
  



	14. Crossroads, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

****

Stardust: Crossroads, Part 3

****

\--------------------------------------------

  


Although Hirgilron was of the opinion that his cousin's main purpose in requesting an examination of the books was to avoid any close time with Einda before his departure, Hiraldon proved very meticulous and spent the better part of a day jotting down notes during his audit. Hirgilron should have been insulted at the implication of slovenly record keeping, but given that the estate would shortly change hands he privately thought it a good thing that Hiraldon was so thorough. Familiarity with the manor's financial standing would smooth the inevitable transition. When Hirgilron went to the major domo's chambers to call his cousin to dinner, Hiraldon was just putting away the last of the estates' records. "Yes, I'm coming down," he responded to Hirgilron's query. "I have a list of practical suggestions for improving your numbers --" 

Hirgilron rolled his eyes. "Spare me."

"-- which I will give to your manager since I know that you can't be bothered," his cousin blandly finished. "I am pleased to see that my father was mistaken and neither estate is in imminent danger of financial collapse, although Culumaldas is draining your coffers considerably."

"You do not approve rebuilding my mother's family estate?"

"On the contrary, I think your time is better spent remaining here and improving both properties rather than gallivanting off to Minas Tirith. The first harvest is not too far off. You are going to lose a month and more settling your brother and sister at court." 

That garnered nothing more than contemptuous amusement from Hirgilron. "Do you still plan to head back on the morrow? If we delay your departure but an hour or two, Einda can be packed and **you** may escort her to court." Hiraldon hastily demurred, saying that would be inappropriate and also suggesting that it would be best not to let Einda know the exact time of his planned departure since she very likely **would** show up with packed bags. Hirgilron smiled sardonically at his cousin's discomfort, and reminded Hiraldon that the property would be in good hands. "Mother looked after the estates with great skill before I reached my majority. Considering they are in much better shape now than when she returned to Ithilien, I do not think briefly being in charge of both once again will prove too much of a challenge for her."

"I suppose not," said Hiraldon, managing to sound both doubtful and polite all at once. "It is not only my father who is concerned. Einda has also approached me."

"I am sure 'concern' was her main purpose."

Hiraldon flushed slightly before shrugging in defeat. "If you care to tell me what is truly wrong here, I will listen. All I have to say to you is that she is concerned, and my father is concerned, and if you could do something to make them less concerned that would be a good thing."

"The right and just thing does not always bring calm, cousin."

Appearing perplexed at the grim response, Hiraldon chuckled. "You are becoming too complex for me once again, Hirgilron! I swear, you have become quite the philosopher over the past year."  
  


"The more profound questions in life have no appeal for you?"

"If one spent their time searching for the answers to every question, when would one find the time to live?" asked Hiraldon with a smile. "Only Elves have that luxury."

Hirgilron lowered his eyes hastily, afraid of what might be glimpsed within them. "Indeed," he murmured. "We do not have the luxury of waiting for dinner either, since I passed Eimar on his way to the table. He has decided that the Dwarf is to be his model in all things, which means we shall be fortunate if a few crumbs are left by the time we arrive. Come." 

\----------------------------------------------

In another part of the manor the Lady Terisda was also readying for the evening meal, although her preparations had been interrupted by the arrival of her daughter in her chambers. Knowing that Hiraldon's remaining time at the manor was limited, Einda had for the first time in her young life found herself at a loss for what to wear, and was utterly convinced that nothing she currently possessed was appropriate. Her mother had to remind her quite forcibly that they were of different shapes, heights and complexions, and that none of her own formal wear would suit a young girl anyway. When it appeared that stark pronouncement might force Einda to succumb to hysterics, Lady Terisda regrouped and offered in a gentler tone to help her daughter with her hair. Given that the Lady's hair was often in a state of disarray Einda was sure that was a very bad idea, but her mother insisted that she was quite a passable hairdresser when she put her mind to it and promised that her daughter would not recognize herself when the coiffure was completed. Einda had no doubt as to the veracity of that statement. It was with a feeling of impeding doom that she gave herself over to her mother's ministrations. 

The days since Hiraldon's unexpected arrival had been very trying for Einda. She had anticipated that Hiraldon's attentions would be centered upon her (even though they never had been in the past) and was piqued that he spent more time with the horses. Trying to glean information from her brother was not very productive. Eimar would put his nose in the air (rather as she did, although Einda did not recognize the behavior in herself) and say, "It's man talk. It's not anything **you** would understand." So the imagined intimate adult discussions she envisioned upon their next meeting never materialized, limited as she was to polite, public conversation at evening meals.

Perhaps, Einda reasoned, it was because she had no forewarning of Hiraldon's visit and therefore she had not been able to prepare properly. Once suitably attired as a court lady she would have a better chance of out-competing the livestock for Hiraldon's consideration. Her impatience to go to court now outweighed her lingering guilt over abandoning her mother, so that when Hirgilron announced that he and his retinue would be leaving for Minas Tirith shortly she did not join in her mother's rather forced protests at the brevity of his visit. Hiraldon's departure meant her own time at court would come that much faster, and Einda discovered that time could not pass fast enough. 

Her mother regarded Einda's sudden rush to get to court with rueful amusement, not at all surprised at the young girl's abrupt enthusiasm for a change of residence, and kept the more uncharitable comments she might have made to herself. "At least you will not have to worry about packing facepaints. The Queen eschews such, and why wouldn't she? Such artifices would only hide rather than enhance her beauty."

Personally Einda thought this was very unfair. Dame Agnatha had carefully instructed her in the art and she was looking forward to being someplace where it might be appreciated even as she feared what else might await her in the big city. She couldn't keep the petulance out of her voice when she said as much to her mother. Lady Terisda's dry response was that she might find a husband easier to land if he knew what she truly looked like before the wedding. Einda's mental opinion on that was that Hiraldon knew what she looked like a little too well, and some mystery would no doubt provide the push needed for him to stop treating her like a little girl. The thought made her blush, which she seemed to be doing far too often any more. Her mother's wry expression deepened. "I mean for your court time to be spent on a different sort of 'courtship' than you appear to be considering! Remember, though, if you feel you must marry, I expect someone who will care for Culumaldas as I would."

Einda paused over her response, for she was an honest girl and she could not give the answer her mother wished to hear. "The land is better for horses when it is less wooded," she finally said. "And better for Men as well."

"You heard the Elf Lord when he said he wished to again see the trees that gave my family's estate its name. Indeed, Elves and even Men come from all over Middle-earth to view those trees despite the ruin of the manor itself. Do you not think that alone makes them worth preserving?" Einda frankly did not care what either Men or Elves thought on the subject, for it was to be her land (well, hers and her future husband's) and she did not want anyone interfering with the disposition of it. She remained silent. Lady Terisda sighed. "I have had all of your life to instill this into you; why would I think a few words at this date would sway you? It seems I must lay my hope elsewhere."

If Einda had been paying any sort of attention she might have noted that her mother's words and, indeed, her entire demeanor were devoid of the hope that she casually mentioned, but Einda was caught up in contemplating a future separate from that of her only living parent and did not notice. She was pleasantly surprised, however, when the Lady instructed her to look in the mirror. Somehow her wavy hair had been coaxed into riotous curls, piled artlessly on top of her head in a way that left her neck bare. It was a very elegant look. "Mama, this is wonderful! I had no idea you were so talented."

Her mother gave another rueful smile. "I'll show you how to do it yourself before you leave," she promised. This put Einda in a much better frame of mind, one that she was able to maintain throughout the meal even though Hiraldon again spent most of the time conferring with her brothers about horses and never once complimented her on her hair.

\---------------------------------------------------

Hiraldon left before breakfast the next day, ostensibly to set out on the tiring journey before the sun rose in the sky, although all suspected he was avoiding one, or perhaps both, of the ladies of the household. If such was his goal then he enjoyed success, for it was far too early for Terisda to be up and, although the secret messenger service that kept Einda so informed as to comings and goings let her know he was departing immediately, she was in a state of undress that, while it might have indeed made an indelible imprint on all the young men of the manor, was hardly appropriate for a lady of any quality to publicly appear in. By the time she pulled together a suitable outfit Hiraldon was long on the road, and her last chance to make an impression upon him before meeting again at court was lost.

Hiraldon's departure was not unattended, for both Hirgilron and Eimar were present, the latter as much to say farewell to the one horse he thought might not try to kill him as to see Hiraldon off. To his surprise, Samwise was bridled but unsaddled, having only a light stable blanket over his back. Hiraldon casually handed the reins to the young boy, and grinned at his uncomprehending stare. There had been a good reason for the intense conversation about horseflesh the night before. The two men had agreed on a strategy that would ease Eimar's fears and make Hirgilron's own upcoming journey much smoother. "I am borrowing one of the herd mares to take to town, to see if perchance some members of the guards would be interested in your father's stock. If so, your brother and I may start the breeding program again, perhaps with you supervising since it is not something Lord Hirgilron is especially interested in." Hirgilron snorted, but turned it into a cough at his cousin's warning glance. "That leaves me with one horse too many. I was hoping I could entrust Samwise to you. You will have to care for him during the rest of his stay, and I expect you to deliver him to me in good condition when you arrive to take your post at the Citadel. May I trust you for this?"

Eimar's back straightened, and his shoulders squared. "I will take good care of Samwise," he vowed. "I'll make sure that he has carrots, and grain, and that Goldenrod doesn't frighten him!"

There was another repressed snort from Hirgilron. Hiraldon said, "I know I am leaving him in good hands. You," he added over the boy's head to his cousin, "must make sure that he is exercised at least once a day."

"I'll exercise him, too!" insisted Eimar.

"I think what Master Hiraldon means is that someone must ride Samwise every day."

Some of the boy's enthusiasm leeched away, but his mouth pressed in a firm line and, impossibly, his shoulders went straighter still. "I can do that."

"We shall do that together," said Hirgilron, as if it were a decision he had just made. "I will ride Goldenrod so that Samwise gets used to her, for they will have to spend a great deal of time together when we travel to Minas Tirith, and you will ride Samwise, and we shall practice journeying about the estate in the afternoons."

Eimar gave his brother a suspicious glance, for he suddenly felt as if he had been played in some mysterious way, but he agreed to the terms. He then formally said farewell to Hiraldon, bowing in his best grown-up fashion. Pulling gently on the reins, he experienced a secret thrill as Samwise obediently followed just behind him, the horse's steps slowed so that he would not overtake the boy leading him. The two men watched with matching smiles as Eimar and Samwise disappeared down the path toward the stable. "That should save you stopping on the road every other day so he can recover from saddle sores!" 

"Yes, it worked out very neatly. I think we both could earn our bread as bards should the need ever arise."

"There is some playacting inherent in what I do now, but a bard? I would drive all away with my singing. You are better suited to such. You have, or at least used to have, a passable voice." Hiraldon swung up on his horse and singled his men that he was ready to depart.

If the leave-taking between Hirgilron and Hiraldon lacked much warmth, there was at least no overt hostility. Indeed, the two felt that they understood each other very well. As he looked up at his cousin, Hirgilron remarked, "I never once thought I would say anything like this, but when you are kind to my brother, I believe I could like you."

"Thank you," replied Hiraldon before dryly adding, "I have had my doubts in the past, but after this visit I believe that, one day, you may actually grow up. Not today, not anytime in the foreseeable future, but eventually."

"And now I don't like you very much again," returned Hirgilron, but he smiled as he spoke.

"I will see you in Minas Tirith?"

The smile faded from Hirgilron's lips. "Yes," he said quietly. "Tell Uncle that I will be there very soon."

\-------------------------------------------------

Terisda was beginning to wish that she had spent more time and effort on Culumaldas and less on Hirgon's manor, for she could not imagine Einda living out of tents and cobbled-together shelters the way she herself had when she first returned to Ithilien. Especially after the young girl had a taste of court life; Terisda was firmly convinced that, although service as one of the Queen's ladies might train some of the airs out of her daughter, she would find more to put on. _Probably Elvish ones at that,_ Terisda thought waspishly. _I will have no peace from Elves and their peculiar ways for the rest of my days._

She had pictured herself retiring to Culumaldas only after her son married, not until then devoting the time to rebuilding the homestead that had belonged to her parents. It was a good thing that Hirgilron himself had begun the restoration a few years earlier, although according to the last reports she read anything approaching a livable residence was still a considerable span of time in the future. But Hirgilron's uncompromising insistence on speaking to the King had not changed over the past month, which meant she would shortly have to relocate to Culumaldas whatever the conditions there might be. She consoled herself with the thought that Einda would be in the relative comfort of her new quarters within the Citadel, and stubbornly refused to consider how perilous the situation at court might be for her youngest children once the truth became known.

In the days after Hiraldon's departure she felt as if all her children were pulling away from her. Einda was consumed with her upcoming duties at court in spite of being assured by her mother that they would not be too onerous. All of her time was spent with Dame Agnatha, with whom Einda trained as diligently as if she were a shield maiden preparing for war. Hirgilron had been distant for some time, and the silences between them seemed longer and more fraught every day. Even Eimar was spending as many mornings as afternoons at the stables, for in addition to riding Samwise he insisted on performing his usual chores, and knowing that she would only see brief glimpses of him over the next two years, Terisda did not have the heart to deny him by insisting he concentrate on his lessons during his remaining time at the estate.

Only Legolas ever attempted to soothe her fears, and he, too, was about less and less as his duties took him further away from the manor proper. Whatever their preternatural abilities, Elves did not appear to be able to traverse distances much faster than Men. She saw him only during the darkest of hours, and most nights he visited not at all. So Terisda spent more and more time alone, and her brooding over the fate of Hirgon's estate grew ever darker in its intensity.

As if to further drive home the differences that would soon occur in her life, a missive arrived for Terisda one morning, so soon after Hiraldon's departure that the messenger must have crossed paths with the party returning to Minas Tirith. It was from Andina, which surprised Terisda quite a bit since she rarely, if ever, received a communication from her sister-in-law separate from Hiranion's notes. _I am not well enough to attend court myself,_ the letter informed her _, but I still find great joy in following the fashions, and it would please me endlessly to dress Einda for her duties._ Terisda was insulted at the implication that she could not provide for her daughter herself, and if the letter had ended there no doubt a very stiff refusal would have found its way into the messenger's hands. As the letter continued, however, Terisda could almost hear the plaintive and brave voice of her sister-in-law: _Lacking a daughter myself, I have never been able to indulge one, and preparing boys to be squires is just not as fulfilling. I hope you do not find this forward, but this will be the only opportunity I ever have to present a girl at court._

Of course, it also denied Terisda the only opportunity **she** would ever have to do the same, but Terisda had not been deprived of the ability to have as many children as she wanted. Slowly she clenched the letter closed in her small fist. _I am fortunate,_ she told herself fiercely. _I must remember that I am fortunate, even though I do not feel so very often of late._ So she sent back a missive claiming that any excuse that kept her from having to endure the shops of Minas Tirith was a good excuse, and of course Andina must dress Einda in whatever fashion she thought appropriate. 

  


\-----------------------------------------

  
  


The day before the planned departure Hirgilron took his brother on a short but difficult ride that included small jumps over fences. He was pleased both that the young boy's nerves held and that Samwise gave no sign of balking when presented with obstructions. Although he anticipated no difficulties during the week-long journey to Minas Tirith, one never knew what might happen on the road and it was well to be prepared for all eventualities. Indeed, the greatest test for Samwise's nerves continued to be Goldenrod's presence. If the war horse gave an unexpected toss of her head, the smaller gelding would eye her nervously. At least he was no longer shying with every haughty glance sent his way, but Hirgilron thought it would be best to have Einda ride between them as a buffer during the journey.

Not wishing to wear out either horse or rider, he brought the excursion to an early end. During the gentle walk back to the stable, however, both horses stopped suddenly. An instant later a non-existent breeze rustled through a close-standing elm, and Hirgilron knew that Legolas was in the area.

"Lord!" exclaimed Eimar in the same moment of Hirgilron's realization. He was looking up into the trees, a bright smile on his face. "You're back! I have not seen you or the Dwarf all this past week!" He tried to peek around the Elf to see if the Dwarf was also present, as if Gimli might be as home in the trees as the Elf himself. 

"Knowing you are leaving soon, I wanted to wish you a fair journey," came Legolas' voice from overhead. The Elf dropped lightly to the path in front of them, his attention centered on Eimar rather than Hirgilron. "You have been very busy yourself, young master. Your lady mother says she hardly sees you these days."

Not having seen the Elf in the manor since Hiraldon's departure, Hirgilron realized just when his "lady mother" might have spoken to Legolas and bristled. 

"Is this your new mount? He seems pleasant." Legolas held out a hand and Samwise obediently took the half-dozen steps needed to bring him to the Elf. Legolas stroked his silky neck and spoke to him softly in Elvish. The gelding's ears rotated forwarded as if he were listening intently, and he gave a small bob of his head as the Elf's long fingers scratched along his jaw.

"His name is Samwise! He's a good horse. We jumped a fence and he didn't even try to throw me!"

"Samwise, is it? A very good name, although the Samwise I know prefers leading ponies to riding horses," said Legolas gravely, his mouth giving the faintest of amused quirks. "As your father was a Rider, I expect it comes more naturally to you than to hobbits. I had the impression from your mother, however, that you did not much care for horses."

"I like horses well enough," protested Eimar. "It's just ... well, Einda's better with horses than I am, and Hirgilron will be here to protect the trees and the other growing things, so neither horses nor trees need me here. I'm going with Mama when she leaves. Someone has to take care of Culumaldas."

Hirgilron regarded his brother in surprise, for although Eimar took to forest craft very well, he had never before heard the boy speak of his concern for the lands in such an earnest fashion. "When did you decide this? I thought you had your heart set on hunting orcs with the Elf lords."

"Master Hiraldon asked me what I wanted to do after I squired. When I told him, he said that hunting orcs was important, but there might be long periods of time between orc hunts when I might be bored. He told me to think about what I was good at, and what I might do with what I was good at. I do not talk to the trees the way you do," he said to his brother, "but I'm still good with the trees. I'm good at tracking. I know where the animals are, and how many can be taken so that there will still be plenty for the next year. I would be a good manager for Culumaldas. I would take good care of it," he finished, in much the same tone that he had promised to take good care of Samwise for Hiraldon.

Hirgilron winced slightly. He was beginning to think that, management of the trees aside, Hiraldon might well be a better custodian for the family. His cousin had certainly had more success addressing Eimar's fears, and in a very short span of time.

Legolas tipped his head to the side as he gazed up at the young boy. "You suspect your mother of some ill design against the trees there? I assure you, she will go to nearly any length to preserve the land."

"Oh, Mother will, yes. But the land will go to Einda eventually. That's what the King said, that Culumaldas would go to the daughter if there was one. There would be nothing wrong with that, but when Einda comes into the land, then in a month there will be farmland where there was forest. If I'm the major domo of Culumaldas, I can make it more difficult for her to do that."

"If she weds Hiraldon, then you will have to oppose both of them when it comes to the disposition of the trees," Hirgilron reminded him.

"That isn't a problem. I can talk to Master Hiraldon man-to-man. He'll listen to me."

"I have been talking to Hiraldon 'man-to-man' for nigh all my life, Eimar. He still will not acknowledge any value to the lands beyond what crops might be used to replace the trees."

"You two don't really talk," replied Eimar in his artless manner. "I don't know what it is you do, because you don't really listen to each other, either. He's better than you think he is."

Hirgilron felt his temper tighten at that. "Give the boy a horse and suddenly he is your greatest admirer! A major domo that is susceptible to bribery is not an asset to any estate."

"Indeed," agreed the Elf. "I confess, I am always confused when it comes to Men and their lands, for it oft seems to me as if the land owns them rather than the other way around. If the land goes to your sister, however, is it not the case that **she** appoints the caretaker of it?"

"Well ... yes..."

"Then I suggest, young master, that you might want to be a bit nicer to her from time to time. If Master Hiraldon does not wed your sister, then you must needs deal with her directly. It will be hard for you to influence the disposition of the trees if you are barred from the lands. I very much hope, though, that all of this happens in the far, distant future. I do not like to think of Culumaldas without your mother."

Eimar appeared quite shocked at the thought, and assured Legolas that he was sure he would be very old indeed before events brought Culumaldas into his sister's hands, probably even older than Hirgilron was now. Legolas smiled widely at that, which so entranced the small boy that he didn't even hear Hirgilron's snort of irritation.

"Are you done with your farewells, Elf? Since my mother complains that we spend so little time with her, I thought to assign Eimar to her for the afternoon. You are holding us up."

Eimar snapped out of his absorption with Legolas' fair expression and frowned at his brother's sudden rudeness. "Will you be going to Minas Tirth as well, lord?" he asked the Elf in an attempt to cover for Hirgilron.

"I do not truly know where my journeys will take me, but I do not expect to return there any time soon. Who can say, though?"

"The Elf will not have time for you should he visit, Eimar," said Hirgilron, and there was a touch of warning in his voice as he gazed hard at Legolas.

"Aragorn's training will not leave you with much time for indulging the whims of visiting Elves," Legolas said to Eimar. "I expect the opportunity to see your brother again will arise rather sooner. Safe journey to you both." Legolas gave a small half-bow and vanished into the trees, and not a leaf stirred to mark his passing.

Hirgilron sat quietly for a moment, his brows drawn together and his head tilted as he tried to puzzle through the Elf's cryptic statement. Truth be told, he found most of the Elf's statements to be cryptic, and this one was no easier to decipher than any of his other pronouncements. Sighing, he gave up and gathered the reins in his hands, preparing to urge Goldenrod forward. He caught a glimpse of his brother staring at him, and turned his head to look at Eimar. "What is it?"

"You look like the Elf," announced Eimar.

Considerably startled, Hirgilron waited a moment to school the shock out of his voice before responding. "I, like an Elf? What do you mean?"

"When you put your head like that," and Eimar cocked his own head to the side to demonstrate. "You appeared very similar for a moment." Hirgilron did not know what to say to that, but fortunately Eimar did not draw any uncomfortable connections. "I suppose it's because you both like trees so much," he decided, and then deliberately put his own head to the side, straining so that his ear nearly touched his shoulder. "Do I look like Lord Legolas now?"

"Wouldn't you really prefer to look like the Dwarf?" asked Hirgilron with forced lightness. Eimar proved much taken with the idea, and spent the rest of the trip to the stables speculating whether or not the next year would be too soon to start cultivating a beard.

  


\---------------------------------------------

  


The scene the next morning was similar to Hiraldon's departure, with men-at-arms checking their tack one last time and horses shifting nervously at the alteration in their usual routine. The atmosphere was different, however, for most of the household was in a state of nervous excitement over the departure of the offspring of their lady. Relief had been the predominant emotion with Hiraldon's leave taking. All knew that this was an important event in the history of the estate, although only a very select group understood the true ramifications of the journey. The young lord was much preoccupied and spoke curtly whenever addressed, so that even his siblings began to eye him warily and avoid conversation with him. The Lady Terisda stood on the front steps to observe the preparations for the departure. Her face was composed, but her hands were folded in front of her with the fingers tightly entwined, a mannerism that all in the manor knew she adopted when she was under duress. Those with children among the household felt they understood her emotions, for this day marked an profound moment in her relationship with her younger children. When they returned, they would be considered adults by all. Such moments were always conflicted for a parent.

Mounting his horse, Lord Hirgilron urged the great beast until it stood in front of the manor's steps. Lady Einda and Master Eimar were there saying farewell to their mother. "It is time to mount up, you two. If we wait much longer, we shall not reach the copse I have selected for our sojourn tonight. It has a stream running through it and is very comfortable." He added, quite deliberately, to his sister, "If we do not make it, your overnight stay tonight will be more rough than you are used to."

Lady Einda was obviously insulted at the suggestion that she alone was the delicate one in the party, but she also had been trying to act more like a lady in recent months so she settled for glaring at Lord Hirgilron rather than uttering hot words to him. Both the younger children glanced toward their mother to see if she was prepared for their leaving. Lady Terisda tilted her head back to meet her eldest son's eyes. "I trust you will do nothing to upset the King in your meeting with him," the Lady said coolly. "It would be wearisome to have new taxes imposed because you could not hold your temper."

"You might want to take that cart down another track before you wear a rut in the path, Mother," replied Lord Hirgilron through his teeth. He bowed from Goldenrod's back, and Lady Terisda bowed formally back. Those were the last words they spoke to each other. The Lady embraced and kissed her younger children, much to Master Eimar's distress for he was almost a squire now and that made him much too old to be coddled in such a manner. She watched them mount their horses with a dispassionate expression on her face, and all were moved at the composure she exhibited during her farewells.

So Terisda watched her children leave Hirgon's estate. Her eyes were cool and dry, but her heart was heavy, for she knew that they were leaving forever.

  
  
  



	15. Crossroads, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

****

Stardust: Crossroads, Part 4

 

  


\---------------------------------------------

 

  


"I could have given you a child tonight," Legolas said.

 

  


Terisda opened one eye to give his glimmering form a curious glance. His face was turned from her slightly, so she raised onto her elbows for a better angle. They were under the trees, which was not as romantic as it might seem. No starlight penetrated the canopy, and Terisda was aware of strange smells that made her think of wild things. It was dank and a little frightening to her, and it had taken a while for Legolas to soothe her into compliance for she leapt nervously at every tiny sound. Yet the darkness enveloped her like a blanket once she permitted herself to lose her senses in him, and it gave her a sense of privacy that the open areas near the pond lacked. It was far more dream-like in many ways, which was perhaps part of her unease. Dreams were not always sweet. "I would think the difficulties with the one that you have already gifted me with would give you pause," she said, dryly.

 

  


Legolas smiled. He slipped one arm under her shoulders and she leaned back, grateful for the pillow. His other hand stroked her stomach, cupping over the graceful swell of it, his long fingers spreading out. She was not alarmed; as much as she didn't trust him in other things, when it came to her body Terisda was not afraid of what he might do. Besides, although her recollections of their previous time together were not exact, she well remembered how wroth he had been with her use of him and how, when his mind shifted, he was careful to ask what her wishes were in the matter. She ventured another glance towards his face, but the angle was wrong and all she saw was the trace of his jaw. Although Elves were fey at all times, his mood was most peculiar tonight. "Your planned departure makes you melancholy," she decided. "You do not have to leave, if you are not ready."

 

  


"I would I could stay beyond the survey, since you will do nothing save brood over Hirgilron once you are alone. Gimli has been very patient with me, but his eyes turn more and more toward the north and I know we must move on to Dagorlad. Even when we are done with the survey there are duties elsewhere that claim my remaining time in Middle-earth, and the sea ever calls to me. I know I cannot stay," he finished, more to himself than to her.

 

  


Having never harbored any thoughts of him remaining, she was not offended. But Legolas' mention of his eventual fate stung her memory, and she could not remain silent. "That is in part why you agreed to Hirgilron," Terisda reminded him, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. "You wished for something of yourself to remain here."

 

  


She felt the slight tensing of muscle where she pressed against his side, and his fingers flexed against her shoulder. "It has been far harder than I ever imagined it would be, even before, when he was just a name and an occasional rumor from a visitor. Now that I know him ... Ai, Torrey. It is a torment to think he might remain here."

 

  


"It is a torment to me to think he might go. I am still not happy that you came here, Legolas, but to live forever, to have the world change around you while you remain the same ... ! Such a fate is a horror to me. Yet I could not deny him the opportunity to decide for himself what he must do."

 

  


He sighed, which she thought a peculiar sound an Elf to make. "I agreed to this survey without fully understanding what I would find here, or how I would feel about it. I would far rather stay here with you, but I must fulfill my previous obligations."

 

  


"Legolas, I know that this is an interlude. You cannot remain forever."

 

  


He was silent after that, and although he continued to hold her, for some reason his embrace did not bring its usual comfort. Yet she did drift off eventually, and when she awoke it was alone in her own bed.

 

  


When next they met it was in the great hall, the same place she had been when her major domo announced that an Elf had come calling all those weeks ago. They were not alone, however, so no private words were spoken between them. Gimli bowed to her and spoke words of thanks as required by hospitality, and Legolas's conversation was much along the same lines, before the two formally took their leave of her to continue their journey towards Dagoland. Terisda smiled impersonally and bowed to her guests, but cited estate matters and so did not see them off. The next day, her major domo informed her during the daily briefing that their guests had departed earlier that the morning. "We shall be quiet for a while," he said in amusement, and Terisda bowed her head, vowing to enjoy the peace before the upcoming storm disturbed the manor's equilibrium far more than a visiting elf or two could hope to.

 

  


\---------------------------------

 

  


The journey went as smoothly as could be expected, which meant that some days were not at all smooth while others found the entire party in complete accord. The closer Eimar and Einda came to Minas Tirith, however, the more restless they became, straining the tolerance of the accompanying adults. Despite the doom he knew awaited him there, Hirgilron was more than happy when the great terraced walls came into view. Even though he expected no peace within the White City, its proximity placed him closer to a few moments of quiet, which at that instant he yearned for above all other things.

 

  


They were met a few miles outside of the city by a small party that included Hiraldon. For once Hirgilron greeted his cousin with genuine pleasure, for his siblings had spent the best part of the morning demanding updates on their position relative to Minas Tirith and he was fast losing patience with both of them. "We had your messenger arrive yesterday, and so knew you were close," Hiraldon said to his cousin after politely greeting Eimar and Einda, greatly irritating the latter by complimenting Eimar on his horsemanship and thus spending more time talking to her little brother than to her. She comforted herself that she would soon be attired in court finery surrounded (no doubt) by many admirers, and that he could not help but take notice then. She spent no little mental effort in debating whether she would cut him cold or be forgiving when that day occurred, and so remained in considering silence for the rest of the journey.

 

  


The two men rode side-by-side towards Minas Tirith, making desultory conversation. Hiraldon did not know if the Elf lords were presently at court but suggested that his mother would be the best person to ask as she knew all the comings and goings, who was in residence and who was in disgrace. They stopped to stable most of the party's horses just outside the city, for Minas Tirith was not conducive to travel by horseback and only noble ladies tended to ride for brief distances within the city's confines. As they passed through the gates Hirgilron could feel his shoulders tense. Perhaps it was just second-hand memories from Lady Terisda's tales of the siege, but whenever he entered the White City it was always as if something cold brushed against his spirit. With genuine reason to fear his upcoming meeting with the King, the involuntary shiver was more intense than usual.

 

  


"The court is expecting you," said Hiraldon, his words timed so perfectly with the chill that Hirgilron wondered if his cousin might be intentionally increasing his discomfort. "Earlier in the week, the King himself send a missive to my father asking for confirmation of your arrival! He has been sorely pressed by many to open North Ithilien, so no doubt he is eager to hear how the survey proceeds."

 

  


"Of course Uncle has contributed nothing to such talk."

 

  


"Believe it or not," responded Hiraldon with a hint of asperity in his usually even tones, "my father does have other things to do than constantly fret over your misuse of the lands. Do not tax him with your accusations."

 

  


Hirgilron slanted an assessing glance towards his cousin, but Hiraldon's mouth was pressed tight and he appeared to have no further warnings to deliver. Instead he turned to answer a question from Eimar. Eimar's frank astonishment at his new surroundings took the notice of the two men, for he had many questions and did not hesitate to ask them. This further annoyed Einda, who was feeling very put out since her lofty position atop the only horse remaining in the party made it nearly impossible to hold any conversation at all, let alone one that would command Hiraldon's interest. It rankled to have her little brother the center of attention during what should have been her triumphant entry into Minas Tirith, and she vowed to have words with him in private about his uncouth conduct. The way he was gawking, she thought crossly, anyone could tell they were from the country. So she held her head high and only glanced sidelong at her new surroundings, determined to appear as if she belonged with the walls of the City.

 

  


In time they came to the houses of the nobles in the second circle, and Hiraldon politely gave his hand to Einda for her to dismount. Of course it would have been easier for her to jump down without aid, but she made a great show of leaning on Hiraldon and smiled prettily at him in thanks. One of the servants in the party opened the door to the house then, however, so the moment (if "moment" it was) was interrupted. So far, Einda decided in irritation as she entered the house for the first time, the troublesome journey had not been worth it.

 

  


Eimar gazed around the foyer with wide eyes, and even Einda's attempt at composure was difficult to maintain, for although their stone-hewed home was far larger, it was also quite different from the cloth-covered walls and carpeted floors that now surrounded them. "Mama stayed here during the war?" asked Einda in awe. "How could she bear to leave?"

 

  


"I doubt it was much to her liking. It's hard to even walk horses through the city, let alone ride one the way she likes to," Hirgilron pointed out, dryly. "Or the way **you** like to ride one, as far as that goes."

 

  


"The Fields are just outside the walls, and they are nice and flat. It's a far better place for giving a horse its head than our own lands."

 

  


Hirgilron was not about to admit that his sister had a point. He pressed his mouth together instead, and asked after his aunt and uncle. Hiraldon gave a perfunctionary nod and said he would see if his parents were available. 

 

  


After he left them, "You don't like it here," said Eimar with that curious perception he sometimes displayed.

 

  


Hirgilron shrugged. "Minas Tirith has too many houses too near each other, and I always feel as if the walls are about to close in on me. Apart from that, I suppose it's a nice enough place."

 

  


"This is a glorious place!" proclaimed his sister. She held her arms up and twirled in the hall, as if the rich colors had gone to her head like wine. 

 

  


"The court will not meet with your approval, then, since it is considerably more austere than this place," Hirgilron told her.

 

  


Einda stopped in mid-twirl, and scowled at him. "I'm sure it's very elegant as well."

 

  


"There are Elves there," Eimar said. "It has to be elegant."

 

  


Hirgilron was forced to chuckle at that, and even Einda laughed, and so Hiraldon returned to find a much lighter atmosphere than when he departed. He was accompanying by his father, who smiled upon seeing the company and remarked on their spirits. Like Hiraldon, however, Hiranion's mood appeared forced.

 

  


Bowing to Hiranion, Hirgilron found his uncle little changed from their last meeting some five years previous. His back was as straight as ever and his jaw just as firm. Perhaps there was a touch more gray in his hair, but that was as like Hirgilron's own faulty memory as a true sign of aging. "Andina is settling into the morning room, where she will receive you. She hasn't seen Einda since she was a baby, so she has been greatly anticipating this meeting."

 

  


Self-consciously Einda touched her hair and tried to unobtrusively shake out the travel wrinkles in her skirt. Hiraldon smiled at her, his most relaxed expression of the day, and said, "You look fine."

 

  


"She's sweaty and smells of horse," protested Eimar, whereupon Einda, who had just decided the troublesome journey was worthwhile after all, advanced upon her younger brother with a martial light in her eyes. The men laughed as Eimar ducked behind Hirgilron for protection. Hirgilron commented that there wouldn't be convenient big brothers to hide behind while he was squiring, so Eimar had best learn to hold his tongue around the ladies in waiting even if his sister happened to be amongst their number. Taking them into the antechamber, Hiraldon indicated the door to the morning room, but both he and his father claimed business took them elsewhere, so the siblings went through together to see their aunt.

 

  


Andina was seated on a settee near the window, her legs covered by a light blanket. Her face brightened as Hirgilron entered. She held out her hands to him in greeting even as she scolded lightly, "How good to see you again! You must not let so many years pass between trips to Minas Tirith."

 

  


Hirgilron was shocked at his aunt's appearance. Frail she had always been, but now she seemed lined and gaunt. Her hands shook with a fine tremor when he held them briefly, and the veins along their backs appeared etched into her skin. He had the eerie sensation that death looked from behind her eyes. He shook off the distressing thought and managed to greet her with courtesy, but other strange notions ran near the surface of his mind. He did not consider his mother to be old, but she had the same years as Andina, and at thirty those years did not appear to be so far removed from his own. Suddenly a dread of aging came over him. He stepped away hastily, feeling ashamed of himself yet unable to immediately control his reactions, but Andina beamed upon seeing Einda hovering uncertainly near the doorway and did not notice.

 

  


"You are so like your mother!" she exclaimed. "Oh, but you do have your father's blue eyes. What an usual combination! Everyone at court will be much taken by you."

 

  


Einda blushed charmingly, but wished that Hiraldon was present to hear his mother's effusive praise. She came forward to kiss her aunt's cheek, and with no memory of Andina's past appearance considered the older woman very stylish. Andina made an equal fuss over Eimar, astonishing the latter by proclaiming that he much resembled Hiraldon at the same age. Hirgilron could barely restrain a snort of derision at that, for his childhood memories of his cousin were not fond ones and the images of the child Hiraldon he could call to mind had more in common with orcs than Men, but Eimar was intrigued and peppered the Lady with questions, the gist of which made it clear that it strained his young imagination to considered that any adults of the household had ever been children. Andina appeared much charmed, but Hirgilron saw new strain about her eyes and thought even this short conversation was tiring her. He was about to oblige his siblings to make their excuses and leave Andina to her rest when his uncle entered. 

 

  


After a single glance at his wife, Lord Hiranion announced that rooms had been prepared for the visitors and no doubt they wished to change out of their traveling clothes before the evening meal. Andina protested that she had only just begun to reacquaint herself with Terisda's children, but Lord Hiranion's words reminded Einda that she had been on a horse for more than a week, and she ran her fingers over her skirts, again becoming self-conscious about her appearance. "We are weary and rather fragrant," said Hirgilron with a forced smile, "and will feel better for the rest. We shall see you at dinner."

 

  


"The Lady sups in her room," replied Lord Hiranion sternly, ignoring Andina's protest that she would be able to manage. But when he looked at her again, his expression softened. "After dinner, if Einda is up to shifting through the many bolts of cloth you've been storing for her perusal, then the two of you many confer over her court wardrobe. You must rest until then," he added when both ladies looked as if they would prefer to eschew resting, and possibly supper as well, for a chance to discuss apparel. At that, Andina gave in with a good grace. This was to Hirgilron's great relief, because it was if she was fading before his eyes and he feared their visit might truly bring harm to his aunt.

 

  


Outside the room all was bustle as servants sought the disposition of luggage and Einda and Eimar tried to get their bearings in this new place. After confirming that he was in his usual room, he made his way up the creaking stairs. Pausing at the top, he observed Hiraldon in the midst of the servants, giving directions as to the disposal of various packages and reminding the servants not to unpack everything as the younger members of the family would be relocating to the Citadel within a few days. "I will unpack my own bags," Hirgilron said, raising his voice to be heard over commotion, and fixed his cousin with a cool stare. "Those are my saddlebags next to you, Hiraldon; bring them along." 

 

  


His tone was so commanding that several of the servants startled, and Hiraldon's expression soured. But he shouldered the saddlebags in question and followed Hirgilron into the relative privacy of the guest suite, dropping his burden unceremoniously on the floor once the door was closed. "Do not **ever** speak to me like that in front of my own servants again," he said coldly. "You may be a lord, but **this** is not your fief."

 

  


Hirgilron had not been aware of his tone, only the need to get his cousin alone as quickly as possible, and he did not immediately understand Hiraldon's ire. "I meant nothing by it, it's just--" he paused, uncertain how to phrase his concerns. Hiraldon crossed his arms and glared at him, which was so far from his usual composed behavior that Hirgilron was shaken anew. "What is wrong with Aunt?" he finally blurted out. "She is -- she seems -- not well."

 

  


His cousin's mouth tightened further, and he looked away. "'Wrong'? Nothing, other than she is dying," said Hiraldon grimly. "She was merely 'failing' when I came to you in North Ithilien last month, but it's plain now that she is not much longer for Middle-earth. Indeed, my father believes that only her determination to see Einda settled at court has kept her with us this long. He is very grateful to you and Aunt Terisda for sending her to us."

 

  


Hirgilron felt ashamed of the several unkind thoughts he had since meeting his cousin outside Minas Tirith regarding the motives of both Hiraldon and Hiranion. "Surely something can be done. This is Minas Tirith, after all. The best healers in the land are at the court."

 

  


"Whom we have consulted, of course, to the same answer by all, that it is the way of things and there is no cure for time. In truth, she is in so much discomfort daily that release will be a relief." Hiraldon sighed, running a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic fashion that Hirgilron was uncomfortable to witness in his ever-so-proper cousin. "Or so I tell myself, but nothing makes it any easier."

 

  


Silence fell between the two, broken only when Hirgilron awkwardly offered, "If there is anything I can do..."

 

  


"I expect and accept meaningless platitudes from others, cousin; not from you."

 

  


Hirgilron winced and fell silent, and after a while Hiraldon sighed once more and apologized for his temper. "Aunt agreeing to let Mother present Einda has brightened Mother's demeanor considerably. Two weeks ago - well, I did not think she would even be here to greet you. She is much stronger. Consider that in bringing your sister here, you have already done what can be done. So. It will be some little time yet before the new ladies and squires are presented at court. Eimar will need some help with his swordplay in the interim, and no doubt Einda will soon require strong arms to help her with all the purchases Mother deems necessary." His mouth quirked slightly. "I work for a living, otherwise I would of course offer my services to her, but I think her gadabout lord of a brother will do as a substitute."

 

  


"I doubt Einda would agree," said Hirgilron dryly, but he could not pretend a lightness that he did not feel. "Is the King in residence, do you know?"

 

  


"I believe so. I'm sure he will see you at the official court presentation."

 

  


"The King has asked for me in particular, so I do not think I should wait for Einda's debut. He needs to be informed that I am here, and I am available as soon as he will receive me."

 

  


"I will see it a messenger is sent today, then."

 

  


"I appreciate it," said Hirgilron, "or I could go myself--"

 

  


"This isn't the country, and even the King, ranger-bred as he was, isn't so casual as to receive one so travel-stained unless it is an emergency."

 

  


"I don't want to impose more than--"

 

  


He was again interrupted. "While I dislike it when you are highhanded, I don't know what to do when you are all courtesy, so stop it," snapped Hiraldon. "I said it would be done, and it will be. Wash, rest, and try not to look at Mother tonight as if she's going to fade before your eyes. As true as it may be, the reminder is upsetting to Father. Be your usual intractable self, and all will seem as normal."

 

  


"You're a fine one to talk about being 'intractable,'" retorted Hirgilron, and they parted with a fair understanding of each other and the roles they were to play in the upcoming days.

 

  


\-----------------------------

 

  


It was but a couple of days after Legolas and Gimli departed for Dagorlad that the manor received yet another unexpected visitor. Although Teresida kept her expression bland when informed of the latest caller to her home, she had the odd thought that, should the King banish her rather than execute her, her recent experiences caring for guests might make her an excellent employee for a hotelier. She waved off the suggestion of her major domo that the newcomer be brought to the manor's offices to meet with her, for in spite of her dealings with Elves over the years, she was not so inured to their existence that she could think it proper for one of the Firstborn to be treated as any other unexpected visitor to the manor. So she walked briskly to the foyer where the latest attempt (she was sure) to overset her equanimity waited.

 

  


The Elf was not one she recognized, to her intense relief, although his leather garb marked him as one of the woodland folk. She greeted him politely. He looked at her with eyes that were bright and, she thought, a little too interested, and swept her a bow that made her want to look over her shoulder to see if the Queen were present. "Greetings, my lady Teresida. I am Mahrin of the Southern reaches. Thank you for receiving me on such short notice."

 

  


"Elves are always welcome here," Terisda responded with cautious civility.

 

  


He smiled, and Terisda thought that it was just as unfair for Elves to smile as it was for them to speak Elvish. "But why am I here, and with a cart no less? I had a message from Legolas, the leader of our colony, and have rushed with all haste to fulfill it."

 

  


"A cart?" she said, puzzled, then "Legolas? You have just missed him, I fear. He did not mention need of any supplies," she added with a touch of acerbity. "We certainly could have provided them, if he had but asked! The trails beyond these lands are difficult enough for a horse and rider; you will have some trouble catching up to him in a cart, I fear."

 

  


But Mahrin shook his fair head, the smile never wavering. "I know Legolas' path and will follow him shortly, but the cart does not contain supplies for him. Rather it is a gift for you and yours, Lady, as thanks for your hospitality to him over the past weeks. We had a message that you were in sore need of porcelains, and porcelains are something we have in abundance."  
  
  
  


"Porcelains?" Terisda held a hand to her head, and did not know whether to laugh or cry. "I suppose they are from Lothlorien?"

 

  


"Of course!" exclaimed Mahrin, as if shocked that she could think otherwise. "That land is nearly deserted now, alas, but most of their goods were distributed among the other lands before Galadriel passed over sea, and Legolas's new realm was generously appointed."

 

  


"Of course," Terisda echoed fatalistically. "He did say ceramics from Lothlorien were hardy enough to withstand any abuse I might visit upon them, so naturally nothing else would do."

 

  


Mahrin tilted his head quizzically in a manner that strongly brought to mind her just-departed lover, and Terisda wondered if it was a characteristic of wood elves. Try as she might, she could not recall any mannerism of Elrohir's or Elladen's that ever reminded her of Legolas. But she dismissed the notion as she invited her unexpected guest to stay as long as needed, and hoped her relief at his refusal was not too obvious.

 

  


\-----------------------------------------

 

  


The King was on a hunting trip, reported the messenger upon his return from the Citadel, but messages had been properly left and properly received. The King would be made aware of Lord Hirgilron's presence in due course, and in due course would send for him. That left Hirgilron with little to do but attend his sister and train his brother for several days, and although the training was rather relaxing, playing the packmule for his sister's shopping expeditions strained his temper to the utmost. It was with a sense of unexpected relief that he heard the trumpets in the distance that announced the King's return, although when it was followed within the hour by a message that the King would receive Lord Hirgilron early the following morn that relief was swept away. At supper that night Hirgilron sat quietly and watched his family around him, the bickering between his siblings (repressed on Einda's part because she was ever striving to be worthy of Andina and to impress Hiraldon), the quiet conversation between his uncle and cousin who had, he realized, a resemblence to each other in manner as well as looks that the years between them could not disguise, and carefully tuning his responses to his aunt so that she could not read the horror of her condition in his face or mannerisms. On the morrow, everything would be very different. He wrestled with indecision, wondering if he should warn of the inevitiable upheavel, but in the end took a path not dissimilar from one his own mother might have chosen, deciding fatalistically that all would be known soon and there was no need to ruin this last perfect day.

 

  


It was a wonder that Hirgilron ever escaped from the house for his meeting with the King, because Andina was just as tenacious as his lady mother when it came to what she thought was important, and few things were more important to her than how one presented oneself at court. Einda watched in awe as her aunt gently coerced her brother into changing his tunic and then forced him to submit to a light trimming of hair. It was obvious to her that her education in North Ithilien had been sadly lacking in the essentials, and she vowed to devote herself to learning all she from her aunt in the short time remaining before her official duties began at court. For his part, now that the moment of truth was upon him Hirgilron was desperately trying to stall and the attentions of his aunt gave him an excuse to do just that. Too quickly, however, Andina pronounced him fit enough to appear before the King, and Hirgilron took his leave of her with a pleasant smile and a heavy heart.

 

  


The walk to the Citadel was not difficult for one used to patrolling a large country estate, and all too soon Hirgilron was at the entrance reserved for visitors, presenting himself to the Tower guards there and hoping against hope that the King had been called away. But fate was not with him in this instance, for the guards immediately bowed upon seeing him and informed him that, although the King was not yet receiving visitors, they had been ordered to bring Hirgilron immediately into his presence. This did nothing to calm Hirgilron's nerves. Indeed, as they led him past the audience chambers and the various rooms reserved for officials of the court into the private chambers of the royal family, Hirgilron hoped the pounding of his heart was not so intense as to be visible through the thick cloth of his ever-so-appropriate tunic.

 

  


He was not announced as was usual during more formal meetings. The guards indicated a non-descript door, and when staring at it as if willing it to open on its own produced no result, Hirgilron raised his hand and lightly rapped with a single knuckle. A deep voice he recognized bade him enter. Hirgilron closed his eyes for an instant, and when he opened them again they were filled with resolve. He crossed the threshold with no further hesitation.

 

  


"Good morning, Lord Hirgilron," said the King pleasantly enough. "Forgive me for receiving you in my chambers, but since you have had a long journey I did not wish to keep you waiting."

 

  


"I've been in Minas Tirith for some days, so I am well rested, Sire."

 

  


"You are not often at court. I know your mother dislikes it here, but she associates the City with war so that is little to wonder at. I hope you do not share her sentiments."

 

  


Since he was much of a mind with Terisda on the subject of Minas Tirith, Hirgilron felt any response he made would be either an untruth or impolite. The unexpectedly civil conversation made him shake his head in disbelief, and his next words were blunt. "You sent for me, Sire. I do not imagine it was because you lacked trivial conversation here at court."

 

  


The King smiled slightly, his eyebrows raising in query. "Did I send for you? I know I am old according to the reckoning of most, but I have yet to suffer any noticeable lapses of memory. I think I would remember if I ordered you here." Hirgilron had no response for that, for it seemed almost as if the King was mocking his earnestness, and after a moment Elessar relented. "Perhaps it was just to ease your mind. You must not take the initiation of the survey as anything other than it is, the listing of plants and resources in the area. Your estate is not the only one being surveyed, although it is the largest. While several have expressed their concern over the outcome, my decision will not be influenced by anything apart from the report itself. So do not fear any political maneuvering by other parties will weigh more than the simple facts."

 

  


"The survey's outcome does not concern me, Sire," said Hirgilron, which he saw as only the simple truth once all was made known.

 

  


"I am relieved. You also need not worry about your kin while they are under my roof. My seneschal stands ready to show you the chambers assigned to your brother and sister. Mistress Einda will have her own room, although it is no doubt smaller than what she is used to, while Master Eimar will be housed with three other squires."

 

  


"I am greatful for your courtesy towards them, Sire. I hope it will continue once I say what must be said, for this is no fault of theirs."

 

  


"'Fault'?" repeated the King thoughtfully. "Unless you have somehow managed to reclaim the Dead Wastes and are therefore in arrears on your taxes, I cannot imagine what 'fault' of yours could be held against them."

 

  


"Sire, I must speak to you plainly --"

 

  


"No," said the King.

 

  


"Sire, I am not who you think I am!"

 

  


The King fixed his gaze upon him, and although Elessar was no Elf, he was aged for a Man. The weight of time behind his eyes fell on Hirgilron as heavy as a blow, forcing the younger man into involuntary silence. "Are you not, Lord Hirgilron? That is an assumption on your part. I have no wish for plain speech between us. In fact, I forbid it. Suspicions are only suspicions until they are confirmed. I wish nothing confirmed. If you were to speak plainly to me, then it may happen that, as King, I will be obligated to do something that I would, as a man, intensely regret. Normally, you understand, there is no conflict between King and man, for there is little that I would allow to stand in the way of my duty as ruler, least of all my personal feelings. However, it is more difficult when my clear duty as King would force me to do something that I would consider detrimental to the land. Anything that removes you as Lord of North Ithilien I would have to consider detrimental to the kingdom as a whole. So I say to you again, Lord Hirgilron; there is to be no plain speech between us. That is a command from your King."

 

  


Hirgilron listened to this speech with widening eyes and an ever-increasing sense of doom, and when he finally felt free to talk his words were grim and resigned. "The truth will out, Sire. The mere fact you know enough to forbid me to speak shows that."

 

  


The King's voice lost its measured tone for a moment, becoming as acerbic as Terisda at her most irritable. "I did not fight so hard to preserve Middle-earth to have all that is fair about it plowed under! I would be little better than Saruman if I allowed that." Hirgilron chewed on the inside of his cheek, uncertain what to do. He expected to be faced with a wroth King, and was prepared to accept whatever punishment was merited, but denying the truth was still treason and he could not easily accept even the King's direct order to pretend that knowledge changed nothing. No doubt seeing all this in Hirgilron's unsettled expression, the King huffed a bit, and calmed down, and spoke in his usual even fashion. "That which we are **not** going to discuss is not so obvious as you think, Lord. There are privileges to being King, and one of them is seeing the Queen and her brothers occasionally off-guard. I once walked in on Arwen berating Elrohir about you. Elrohir was emphatic that it was none of her concern, while Elladan was off in a corner looking like the cat that had lapped the cream. He ever did have a peculiar sense of humor. They silenced themselves as soon as they realized I was there, but I had heard enough to understand."

 

  


Hirgilron did not know what to say. The thought that the Queen knew was unsettling enough, but for the King to know the essence of the truth and yet have such an essential detail wrong--! He started to laugh, and it had the ragged edge of hysteria about it. The King laid a hand against his shoulder after a while, and he calmed under the touch. "Poor Elrohir. He has endured much for my sake."

 

  


The King gave him a questioning glance, and Hirgilron could hardly blame him -- it was a queer thing to say. "I will not tell you to put your mind at ease," said the King, "for I can tell that you will heed me not. But I consider you family of a sort, and even if you decide you cannot hold your tongue on this, I promise no ill will befall you or yours. Conscience is a difficult thing, and I may not direct yours against your own will." Hirgilron was silent, overwhelmed with indecision (not the least of which was whether or not to tell the King how wrong he was about Elrohir), and Elessar pressed his shoulder before removing his hand. "I hope you will give me some inkling before doing anything rash, however!"

 

  


"I don't know what I will do," said Hirgilron. "My mind is so awash with thoughts that I can't hear a single one!" Sighing, he bowed his head, and the King let him have his moment of silence. "I received an offer to travel recently," he finally said. "Perhaps I will do that, at least for a while. Right now, I wouldn't feel right returning to the lands."

 

  


"Lady Terisda is quite capable. The lands will be in good hands."

 

  


It was a dismissal. Hirgilron regained his composure enough to bow and say the proper phrases in parting, and the King graciously inclined his head and allowed him to leave. Outside of the King's chambers, however, Hirgilron stood for many moments, unsettled in his mind and unsure of his next actions.


	16. Crossroads, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years after their parting, Legolas seeks Terisda out

* * *

Hirgilron's departure from the King's presence did not mark an immediate return to North Ithlien. Having promised to see his siblings settled at court, he remained long enough to do just that. He allowed the King's seneschal to show him where his brother would be staying, and even met one of the boys his brother would be sharing quarters with. Mindful of Hiraldon's words over Eimar's possible treatment by the other squires, Hirgilron greeted the young man warmly and hoped that any positive impressions he made would be transferred to Eimar, giving his brother enough of a grace period for his own natural friendliness to win over the others.

He also attended Einda's presentation at court (which, much to that young lady's annoyance, she had to share with half-a-dozen other youthful noblewomen), and was forced to admit that his sister made a very attractive picture as she knelt in front of the Queen to be formally accepted into the royal retinue. He was used to thinking of her as a child, but watching other men watch her made him realize that she really was a young woman, one mature enough to be married (and with a dowry that might make her a target for those with few scruples). Witnessing her introduction to some of the young rangers that made up the King's guard left him with an oddly disconcerted sensation, and he was unexpectedly glad that Hiraldon would be staying near her, at least for a while. Most of the evening, however, was spent trying to blend in with the other nobles attending the proceedings and thus avoid the Queen's eye, for Hirgilron was discomforted enough without enduring scrutiny from someone who almost certainly knew his dread secret. The notion that any Elf might _know_ as soon as he was glimpsed came into his mind, further adding to his unease as he made serious effort to avoid any of the First Born who might be present. By the end of the evening Hirgilron was so anxious that his parting conversation with his siblings was perfunctory at best, although both Einda and Eimar were excited enough over their new roles that neither noticed.

  


Hirgilron's sleep was uneasy, and the dawn found him awake and talking to his uncle's major domo about arrangements for leaving. He was not especially eager to return to his mother or to his estate, but he was even less eager to remain in Minas Tirith, especially since the White City was home to more Elves than he ever realized, and he felt like flinching whenever he was within sight of one of the elder race. He told his uncle and cousin over breakfast that he wished to depart that day if possible, and sent brief notes of farewell to his siblings. His uncle raised objections over Hirgilron's plans to travel back to the manor alone, but the younger man pointed out that it was a well-traveled route these days, and one Lord Hiranion himself had oft ridden alone back in the days when it truly was dangerous to travel into North Ithlien. Torn between satisfaction that his prideful nephew acknowledged his long-past deeds and a suspicious twinge that a snide comment about his age was hidden somewhere in the compliment, Hiranion acquiesced to Hirgilron's plans but made him promise to stop at every road house along the way to send word back as to his progress. "Lady Andina will worry otherwise," he said, and Hirgilron, on the verge of protesting that he was thirty and not thirteen, paused and gave in. 

When it came time make his farewells to his aunt Hirgilron was rigid with the effort to contain all his emotions, for he well knew he would never see her again. Fearing any show of pity might offend her, he erred perhaps too much in the other direction. Lady Andina gave no indication that she noticed any stiffness in his manner, pressing his hands warmly and reminding him that he must return often to vet his sister's many suitors. "That's too onerous a duty for me! Hiraldon will have to act in my stead," Hirgilron replied, and heard a choking sound from his cousin's direction that lifted his spirits the tiniest of amounts.

The securing of supplies took more time than Hirgilron anticipated, for Lady Andina had strong views about what he would need for the journey and no one would gainsay her. Thus Hirgilron had two sizable packs as well as his saddlebags, and thought he would have to quicken his departure for no doubt his aunt would also recall some ornament that Lady Terisda could not possibly do without and include that as well. When Goldenrod was brought from her stable outside the city, however, she balked at carrying more than the saddlebags, and pranced and tossed her mane and refused to allow Hirgilron to mount. Although certain that her ire was more directed at his lack of attention over the past several days than the added bulk, Hirgilron took the extra packs and ordered that the perishables be delivered to the local house of healing, and the non-perishables set aside until such time as they could be sent to his mother via the usual trading caravan. The men of household agreed there was no need to let Lady Andina know of this change of plan, and so when Hirgilron parted with his uncle and cousin it was on a more conciliatory note than usual.

His pace was not onerous, for once away from the imagined discerning eyes dispersed throughout the City the need for haste left Hirgilron and the dread of facing his mother resurfaced as the greater fear. Chastising himself for a coward, he kept Goldenrod's pace even and tarried here and there to draw out the time. The first night found him far from the roadhouse between Minas Tirith and Osgilith, so he led Goldenrod away from the road before setting up a small camp. That night he did not sleep, instead watching the progression in the sky as the moon set and the stars rose, then as the stars themselves set except for a bright few stragglers, and finally as the morning rays of the sun as the light crept across the nearby rolling hills and stirred Goldenrod to insist upon her breakfast. Hirgilron felt oddly refreshed despite his lack of sleep, and once he satisfied Goldenrod's demands he made good time to the roadhouse, where he briefly broke his journey for some hot food and to dash off a note to Lady Andina assuring her that all was well on his journey so far. There was only one remaining hostel between this one and his destination unless he turned from his path to travel to Osgilith, and he reminded the Lady of that so she wouldn't fret when she didn't receive word for a week as traveled back into the wilds (as Andina saw it) of North Ithlien.

As he sealed the missive Hirgilron realized a week might be more than his Aunt had left. This somber thought dampened the tranquility viewing the stars had brought him, and Goldenrod was again kept to a sedate pace as the two continued their journey. That night Hirgilron tried to recapture the sensation of watching the night skies, but the evening was hazy and two nights of little sleep took its toll. He awoke to the sound of Goldenrod stomping impatiently, and what little equanimity he may have received from his glimpses of the stars the previous night was lost amidst tending to her demands. Once he persuaded her to continue the journey he was as weary as if he had been traveling a week, and the morning passed in a blur as he simply followed the road and did not bother to think about much of anything at all. Even crossing the Anduin did not sharpen his wits as it usually did, for once across the Anduin he could consider himself in North Ithilien, and while the road was part of the public domain of Gondor and not attached to his own lands (which were still a few days away), the sense of being home rarely failed to raise his spirits.

It was late afternoon when Hirgilron approached the famed Crossroads, that strategic place in Gondor once fought over by orcs and rangers, that his parents had raced past in their mad dash to the safety represented by Minas Tirith. These days it was often crowded with merchants and caravans who traversed it in their travels between Osgilith and Minas Tirith, but this time of day most travelers were canvassing areas to stay the night, and Hirgilron passed several clusters of wagons that were setting up for the night. Some watchmen called to him, offering their campfire for the evening, but Hirgilron did not feel the need for company and so shook his head as he pressed on. By the time he reached the Crossroads proper, the busy roads were deserted as dusk began to take hold of the land, and he knew he needed to halt soon himself.

He lifted his head to survey the area, and realized he was not as alone as he thought. On the road that led to Osgilith was a solitary rider astride a great horse, although "rider" was a generous term for it appeared as if the other traveler was not moving. Hirgilron could not immediately recognize the rider from such a distance, but the horse was easily identified and he did not need Goldenrod's welcoming whinny as confirmation. Which meant, of course, the rider could only be one individual in particular, for there was only one individual with permission to take Einar's former mount. _Of course,_ thought Hirgilron fatalistically. _Who else could I possibly run into in the middle of nowhere?_

Upon hearing Goldenrod the other horse snorted and stomped, and its rider did not prevent it from breaking into a trot. The paths of the two intercepted at the Crossroads, and as the horses touched noses and nickered at each other, the riders regarded each other warily. Hirgilron was first to break the silence. Indicating the large war horse that the other sat upon, he remarked, "I see you found your way to Culumaldas after all."

"I did," replied Legolas agreeably. "The work on the manor there appears to be proceeding well, and the stable master was happy to let Specter travel with me." He lightly touched the neck of his mount, and laughed when the horse tossed his mane and stomped his hoof in response. "He has earned his reputation for being difficult, I fear, although we manage well enough!"

"Have you abandoned the pretense of your survey, then?"

"It was no pretense. That being said, it does not require my presence in particular. Mahrin of South Ithilien caught up with us at Dagorlad and is now my proxy. Gimli is not especially happy about my desertion, but he has reached his beloved mountains and so is little concerned about which elf accompanies him."

"What strange chance brings you to the Crossroads just as I reach it myself?"  


"I had a dream," replied Legolas. "I have come to set a great deal of store in dreams. I am also becoming a little weary of them."

"And what did this dream tell you?"

"Nothing I could not have discovered from earnest perusal of a map. Wither go you from here?"

"I am not decided," admitted Hirgilron. "The King -- well, I am still Lord of North Ithilien, and if he has his way then I will remain so. I told him, however, that I remained unconvinced, and that I might take a brief leave from my duties and travel for a while as I consider my choices. Wither go you from here?"

"I think," said Legolas after a considering pause, "I go back to the manor, where I will endure whatever harsh words Torrey has for me. After that, perhaps Lothlorien, perhaps Rivendell. Do you come with me?"

Hirgilron sighed. "I am beginning to believe in fate," he said wearily, "or perhaps I am simply too tired to question whether it is fate any longer. If you go to Rivendell, then I will come with you. I make no promises beyond that."

"I ask for none," replied Legolas. "We still must go to the manor first, however. Torrey needs to be told what has happened."

As disrespectful as it might seem, Hirgilron still did not feel ready to deal with either Lady Terisda or the complications of the King's decision to leave everything as it was. Avoidance, he thought, was perfectly acceptable under the circumstances. "I am sure it was obvious to my mother that I did not plan to return, so it is not as if she's expecting me. We might as well leave from here."

The Elf cocked his head, gazing at Hirgilron in an odd way.

"What?"

"You are very like her at times," said Legolas without further explanation. "We must let her know that the lands are secure, at least for now."

Hirgilron sighed before grumbling, "I should have sent her a note from Minas Tirith, but in truth I believed the King's grace might be revoked at any time. The fact that I've reached the Crossroads unhindered must mean he is serious about letting the matter rest until I decide which path to take. Ah, well. The news of the King's leniency may offset some of my mother's fury when she discovers that I mean to leave with you."

"I doubt that," replied the Elf, laughing, "but it's always good to hold hope near."

  


* * *

END BOOK 2


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